Rochester's Thornfield
by watty08
Summary: Hi all, thank you so much for sticking with this story. I have a new installment and welcome all comments. Hope you enjoy. Sorry about previous issues with chapters.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I in now way own these characters and have used Bronte's wonderful text. I only hope my story may do it justice.

CHAPTER 1

Dusk was slowly fading into night as I rode Mesrour through the grounds that were all too familiar to me. Pilot was running just ahead of me and seemed to speed up the nearer we got to Thornfield. My absence from Thornfield had been no longer than usual. For whatever reason, I found society in London more interesting than normal but it did not entice me to stay through the whole of the season.

I found my visit to Oxford slightly more rewarding as my friend, John Eshton, enlightened me on some of his latest discoveries regarding sparrows. John's passion for birds is admirable and I wish I had been as disciplined in my studies as he was and continues to be. Still I can think of no one in England who knows me better than John so I very much enjoyed catching up with my friend. Of course he does not know everything about me but he has always been sincere and genuine and I value his confidence regarding my English affairs. He is a family man now, as opposed to when we met when he was completely engulfed in his career, with two daughters. I found by the end of my visit, my patience towards them dwindled as it normally does with young people.

As I got on Mesrour this morning, I felt a slight flutter in my heart. I can only guess that my age is beginning to make itself known to my body so I was careful to ride gently on my journey. This slow pace made my ride go longer than I normally liked, especially as night came so much sooner in the winter. Once I reached the Thornfield grounds, I found myself more at ease and let my horse go at a pace he desired.

I thought about Thornfield and how I longed to give it up, knowing this was not at all a possibility. As I quickly became lost in my thoughts, Pilot began barking. I looked up to see what small creature he had found. To my amazement the creature Pilot had spotted was a young woman who tried to hide herself in the shadows away from the road. She was dressed simply: her cloak and bonnet were certainly dissimilar to what the ladies on Bond Street were buying. She seemed such a small and shy thing. I hoped my horse would not scare her and kept on riding.

I knew this stretch of the road well and that it was often less than favourable for riders in January but I did not slow down. As I rode on, my horse lost its footing and seemed to slip.

"What the deuce is to do now!" I exclaimed. The horse and I tumbled to the ground. I swore under my breath. The horse was writhing but seemed to be unharmed other than startled. I on the other hand knew I would feel this one in the morning.

Before I could call him, Pilot ran off in the other direction. I prayed he would find no one to help so we could just get on back to Thornfield.

I sighed deeply and got up. The only part of my body that ached was my ankle. I could not really put any weight on it but it did not bleed so it seemed to only be a sprain. As I tried to disconnect myself from the horse, I heard a small, sweet, elfin voice ask, "Are you injured sir?"

"Blast!" I said under my breath. "No thanks to that damn dog, someone wants to come and be my saviour tonight." I turned around and saw her walking towards me.

"If you are hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch some one either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay," she said. I could finally study her features a bit. They were not extraordinary but there was something about her eyes that seemed to strike me at that moment and I found myself wondering if she could do me some good. I immediately got rid of that thought as I desperately wanted to get on my way.

"Thank you: I shall do: I have no broken bones,--only a sprain," I said gruffly. Her eyes stared at me and I was struck by their moonlit glow.

She offered her assistance again. She could not have been more than 20 and knowing that it was getting dark and late, I told her again I was fine and to run along home. I had no need for a young girl to follow me home that night.

Still she persisted.

"I cannot think of leaving you, sir, at so late an hour, in this solitary lane, till I see you are fit to mount your horse." I looked at her to try and convince her that I was not in need of her help. She seemed startled by my glance.

"I should think you ought to be at home yourself, if you have a home in this neighbourhood: where do you come from?" I asked. I knew most of the neighbourhood but I had never seen this young woman before. Perhaps she was visiting a relation.

She said, "From just below; and I am not at all afraid of being out late when it is moonlight: I will run over to Hay for you with pleasure, if you wish it: indeed, I am going there to post a letter."

Her answer surprised me as she apparently lived at my house. Mrs. Fairfax was often in the habit of employing new servants while I was away. I trusted her judgement so let her do this freely. Still this young woman called Thornfield home and she could hardly have been employed there for more than a few months. I decided to out how attached she was to my estate.

"You live just below--do you mean at that house with the battlements?" and I pointed inquisitively to the shadowy towers that were making themselves evident in the moonlight.

"Yes, sir."

She clearly valued the place but I wanted to see how much about me she actually knew so I asked, "Whose house is it?"

She replied "Mr. Rochester's." She seemed friendly enough and clearly understood social norms regarding address of employers. Still I had to know if the servants had been gossiping and if she followed in this habit. I asked, "Do you know Mr. Rochester?"

"No, I have never seen him." There were perhaps two pictures of me in all of Thornfield, one of which was painted when I was a child. I was hardly surprised by this answer as my appearance is not something I like to display. I decided to see if she knew anything else so I asked, "He is not resident, then?"

"No," she said.

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"I cannot." A servant who did not know who the master was? Perhaps she was not a servant but the new governess. Mrs. Fairfax had told me about hiring a new governess in a letter. I decided to find out if indeed she was. "You are not a servant at the hall, of course. You are…" For some reason I stumbled over my words.

"I am the governess," she said before I could get the words out to finish my question.

"Ah, the governess! Deuce take me, if I had not forgotten! The governess!" I did not want her to find who I was this moment so I went back to my horse who seemed frightened by the fall. Tried as I might, I could not reach his bridle because of my ankle so I asked for her help. "I cannot commission you to fetch help," he said; "but you may help me a little yourself, if you will be so kind."

"Yes, sir." I looked to see if she had something I could put my weight on but she did not. "You have not an umbrella that I can use as a stick?"

"No."

"Try to get hold of my horse's bridle and lead him to me: you are not afraid?" This may seem like a silly question as this young woman offered her services so freely to me but one never knows with females and horses. She shook her head and approached the horse that was wild. My horse was not accustomed to new people and I knew her efforts were in vain so I began to laugh. She turned back to me and I said: "I see the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so all you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain; I must beg of you to come here."

By this point I knew I had no other choice but to see if she could physically help me out. I was unsure of doing this because of her tiny frame but her strength of spirit would hopefully will her body. When she came back to me, I said, "Excuse me. Necessity compels me to make you useful." I put my hand on her shoulder and my weight was soon on her. I limped slowly with her aid to my horse and grabbed the bridle before getting on the saddle. Naturally this was not easy because of my injury but I managed. Still I did not have my whip.

"Now, just hand me my whip; it lies there under the hedge." She quickly found it and I was ready to head back to Thornfield hopefully long before she returned. I said, "Thank you; now make haste with the letter to Hay, and return as fast as you can." I glanced at her face as I rode off. She smiled lightly but there was something curious in her expression like she had just made a friend.

As I rode back to Thornfield, I thought about the governess who lived at my home. She seemed sweet natured and gentle. I am sure Adele found any number of ways to vex her but even still, I am sure it took some effort. This young woman was so mild mannered and sincere. The only reason I kept my identity hidden from her was to prevent the unnecessary social greeting from happening. I wanted to study her before she learned I was her master and would conceal herself from me. What intrigued the most about her were eyes and the way they seemed to convey all her speech during our talk. I had longed studied people's characters through their eyes as they are often truer than the spoken word but this young woman's had me puzzled in a way I had never been before.

Before I could get lost in my thoughts again, I heard Sam call out: "Good evening Mr. Rochester. Welcome home." I was in my drive and, as always, Sam was there to put Mesrour in the stable. I stopped my horse and dismounted. I greeted Sam, told him to bring my things inside the house and made my way in to the house where I was greeted by Mrs. Fairfax. She saw me limping.

"Why sir! What has happened?" she asked. I told her I had fallen from my horse but I was not in any great pain. I also told her I was tired and wished to go to retire for the evening. I asked for supper to be brought to my room. She said she would and then asked: "When do you want to meet the governess, Miss Eyre?"

"Miss Eyre?" I said. So that was the name of the little elf that I met earlier.

"Yes, Jane Eyre. She is out now but should be back shortly."

"Tonight I am tired but tell Miss Eyre I wish to meet her tomorrow."

"Yes sir," and the kind housekeeper bid me good night and welcomed me home. Yes I was home and weary after my journey still I did not know how much sleep I would actually get as I never found Thornfield a restful place. I made my way to my chamber and dressed for bed. A servant brought my supper which I nibbled on before getting into bed. The night was calm for once but I wondered how long this stillness would remain. I turned on my side and closed my eyes. I began to think about my life at Thornfield. I hated so many things about it so I began to think about those eyes I had met earlier and how I adored them. I wondered what secrets, if any, they had and just what kind a person this governess was. With these thoughts, I drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I ended up sleeping very poorly on my first night back at Thornfield. Mrs. Fairfax took it upon herself to call a doctor to see to my ankle. He came shortly after I had drifted off to sleep, woke me, came to the same conclusion I had about my ankle and left me. I was unable to fall back asleep so I decided to check upon Grace Poole and her charge.

Grace Poole was one of the most important people in the house, mostly because of who she took care of. I found her shortly after returning to England from the West Indies. She was recommended to me by one of the doctors I visited and had substantial nursing experience. I took her on board as a servant and paid her a better wage than some of the other servants for her secrecy and good care. She has been invaluable to me over the years and I am grateful for her excellent care.

As I made my way to the third floor apartment, I began to wonder if Miss Eyre had met Grace Poole yet. Grace knew most of the servants in the household well and was able to help with normal housekeeping on a regular basis. I am sure Mrs. Fairfax showed Miss Eyre the stairs to the third floor and gave her instructions regarding the apartment.

I took the key out of my dressing gown's pocked and unlocked the door. Although I was not surprised, I found Grace Poole's charge very much awake. She looked at me with her dark eyes lit by the moonlight and smiled with her demonic expression when she realized who I was. Being careful to stay at a proper distance, I backed into the door. I always worried that I would do something to send her into a maniac state. Still I knew I had to speak to her as it had been some months since I had seen her.

"Hello Bertha," I said. She mumbled something I could not understand and began to wiggle her fingers and beckon me towards her. I did not know whether I pitied this poor woman or utterly despised her for all that she represented. She reminded me of the past, of the biggest mistake I have ever made and she continues to haunt my guilt and grief. I know man should love his wife but this woman was hardly a wife to me. Instead she destroyed the good in me and made me this man.

I said, "Bertha I cannot as I am very tired but I wanted to say goodnight." There was no way I was going to go near if I did not have to. She climbed into her bed and shut her eyes. I left the room, locking the door on my way out and tried to put her out of my mind for the night.

I went back to my bedroom where I noticed the room across the hall had its door closed. I assumed Mrs. Fairfax had put Miss Eyre there, which made me feel slightly uneasy. I normally roamed this hall at any hour I pleased and now I had to be careful of another being in it who would most likely be sleeping at odd times. I went back into my room and went back to bed. It must have been after midnight when I drifted off into a deep sleep.

I rose the next morning late as my journey had tired me. My ankle was feeling better than the previous night. I dressed and went down to the breakfast room. On my way there, I passed the school room. I found Adele and Miss Eyre reading together. Miss Eyre was dressed plain in a grey dress and her hair, which was a lovely hazel colour, was tied back. She looked so different than the women I met in town. Adele probably spent more time getting ready in the morning than Miss Eyre did. I hid to the left of the door and listened to them for a few minutes. Adele's English had certainly improved since I had last seen her. I did not want to disturb them as they seem enraptured with a story about a beauty and a beast. Still I was pleased to see Adele's education improving and that she had an attentive teacher.

Mrs. Fairfax had my breakfast prepared for when I entered the dining room.

"Good morning sir. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes Mrs. Fairfax and thank you for calling the doctor. It did me a world of good." I tried not to sound annoyed but I hated being awoken in the night. "Mrs. Fairfax, I have some general business today but I am not expecting any visitors. Can you prepare the usual dinner for six?"

"Yes sir," she replied.

It then occurred to me there was someone new for me to talk with after dinner so I said to Mrs. Fairfax, "And would you also ask Miss Eyre and Adele to attend? I would like to interview our little governess."

"Of course sir," she said. I thanked her again for breakfast and went to my library. I had lots of letters and bills waiting for me so I found the day passed fairly quickly. The sun began to set and before I knew it, it was after five so I went to my room to change for dinner. I always liked to make a bit of effort when I dined at home after being away. I think it was something I inherited from my mother. I found a nice coat put it on, washed my face and made my way to the dining room. Miss Eyre and Adele were not there so I seated myself and waited for their arrival. Mrs. Fairfax had the table elaborately dressed as always. Since I had a few moments, I decided to have a cigar and relax while I was waiting.

Adele came bounding in.

"Bon soir Monsieur Rochester!" She kissed my cheek and started to ask for her present. I told her it would have to wait and to go play with Pilot. She curtsied in her French way and found the dog. She embraced him, gave him a pat on the back and seemed to talk some nonsense about a beast story Miss Eyre had told her. It then occurred to me that it was nearly six and Miss Eyre had yet to make an appearance. Feeling a bit irritated, I nestled into my chair and watched Adele and Pilot hoping the governess would make an appearance soon.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I heard Mrs. Fairfax and Miss Eyre enter the room and said, "Let Miss Eyre be seated." She was slightly late which vexed me greatly but I was pleased to see she dressed for tea and had a lovely broach on. She sat across from me with her sketchbook in her hand. The fire brought her eyes out and I found myself staring at them on several occasions for the first few minutes of our evening together. She seemed uncomfortable so I decided it was time to get some tea. I said to Mrs. Fairfax, "Madam, I should like some tea." Again Miss Eyre seemed startled by the way I talked to Mrs. Fairfax. She went over to Adele and began to play with her.

Adele seemed completely at ease with her new governess. The two chatted away, Adele telling Miss Eyre that she expected a present at any moment. The governess seemed to have a natural affection for the child, a quality I wish I shared with Miss Eyre for I always found my time with Adele difficult. As I sat their watching them, Mrs. Fairfax came back in with the tea. She asked Miss Eyre to bring my tea to me. Miss Eyre did so and I got a better look at her eyes. They were so pure and sincere, which caught me by surprise. I was captivated by their innocence and found myself drawn to Miss Eyre.

Adele soon came up to us asking for her present. She aske, "N'est-ce pas, monsieur, qu'il y a un cadeau pour Mademoiselle Eyre dans votre petit coffre?"

A present for the governess? Well if it were in my power, I would have brought something to protect her eyes which were so full and bright. As I found myself drifting into these thoughts again, I said, "Who talks of cadeaux? Did you expect a present, Miss Eyre? Are you fond of presents?"

"I hardly know, sir; I have little experience of them: they are generally thought pleasant things." A woman with no experience of presents? I could hardly believe Miss Eyre's response. It seemed like every other woman I had met asked me for some kind of present at one time or another. Yet Miss Eyre acted as if they were completely beyond her. She must have had some at one point in her life I thought to myself so I decided to enquire further, "Generally thought? But what do YOU think?"

She said, "I should be obliged to take time, sir, before I could give you an answer worthy of your acceptance: a present has many faces to it, has it not? And one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion as to its nature." Her response yet again took me by surprise. I found myself drawn to the intelligence of what she articulated, so I decided to continue further with our conversation.

I said, "Miss Eyre, you are not so unsophisticated as Adele: she demands a 'cadeau,' clamorously, the moment she sees me: you beat about the bush."

"Because I have less confidence in my deserts than Adele has: she can prefer the claim of old acquaintance, and the right too of custom; for she says you have always been in the habit of giving her playthings; but if I had to make out a case I should be puzzled, since I am a stranger, and have done nothing to entitle me to an acknowledgment." It seemed like every time I tried to catch her, this elf-like creature rose to the occasion. I decided to see if this is really how she felt.

I said, "Oh, don't fall back on over-modesty! I have examined Adele, and find you have taken great pains with her: she is not bright, she has no talents; yet in a short time she has made much improvement."

"Sir, you have now given me my 'cadeau;' I am obliged to you: it is the meed teachers most covet--praise of their pupils' progress."

"Humph!" I sipped on my tea and pondered the answers she had given me. This young woman was completely settled and seemed to only want a comfortable home and life. She cared little about jewels and riches like most women. I could hardly believe this little elf-like creature was for real. I said to her, "Come to the fire." She came and sat by it and I immediately wanted to learn more about this young woman. She was so pure and good that I had to find some kind of fault for surely no human being could be this perfect. I said, "You have been resident in my house three months?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you came from--?"

"From Lowood school, in -shire." I was familiar with the school as I had contributed some money to it in the past. All I knew was that it produced decent teachers but the girls were often not treated well.

I replied, "Ah! a charitable concern. How long were you there?"

"Eight years." This poor girl had been sent to that wretched place for eight years yet seemed completely oblivious to its hardships. I looked at her eyes as she spoke about it and there was a hint of pain in them which I wanted to take away but beyond that she seemed determined to forget her past.

I said, "Eight years! You must be tenacious of life. I thought half the time in such a place would have done up any constitution! No wonder you have rather the look of another world. I marvelled where you had got that sort of face. When you came on me in Hay Lane last night, I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse: I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?"

"I have none."

"Nor ever had, I suppose: do you remember them?"

"No." When she replied with a "no" I wanted to hold her and tell her we at Thornfield will be her family but knew this was not the time or place. Instead I said, "I thought not. And so you were waiting for your people when you sat on that stile?"

"For whom, sir?" I am sure she did not understand my curious question, the little elf. I decided to see if I could draw something imaginative out of her mouth.

I said, "For the men in green: it was a proper moonlight evening for them. Did I break through one of your rings, that you spread that damned ice on the causeway?"

She seemed to finally understand what I was talking about and said very astutely, "The men in green all forsook England a hundred years ago. And not even in Hay Lane, or the fields about it, could you find a trace of them. I don't think either summer or harvest, or winter moon, will ever shine on their revels more." I smiled when she concluded and saw a light flame flicker in her eyes. She understood me and I was pleased to find an articulate person to converse with.

Still there was more I wanted to find out about her so I asked, "Well, if you disown parents, you must have some sort of kinsfolk: uncles and aunts?"

"No; none that I ever saw."

"And your home?"

"I have none."

"Where do your brothers and sisters live?"

I have no brothers or sisters." Miss Eyre was completely alone and had been for quite sometime. I found my heart warming to her as she told me of her orphan status and began to wonder how she found her way here.

I asked, "Who recommended you to come here?"

"I advertised, and Mrs. Fairfax answered my advertisement." I had asked Mrs. Fairfax to find a governess before I left. As I understood it, the task was far from easy because so few governesses were fluent in French at the level I needed for Adele.

Mrs. Fairfax interrupted us saying, "Yes, and I am daily thankful for the choice Providence led me to make. Miss Eyre has been an invaluable companion to me, and a kind and careful teacher to Adele."

I was glad to hear the two were friends but I wanted Miss Eyre to tell me of her character so I could learn of it and not be influenced by others' opinions. I said gruffly, "Don't trouble yourself to give her a character. Eulogiums will not bias me; I shall judge for myself. She began by felling my horse."

"Sir?" said Mrs. Fairfax.

"I have to thank her for this sprain." She seemed a bit startled by my harshness as she knew I valued her opinion but I was determined to get to know Miss Eyre for myself.

I returned to conversation back to my favoured subject and said, "Miss Eyre, have you ever lived in a town?"

"No, sir."

"Have you seen much society?" I hoped she would say no because I found society so irksome and wished she had more stimulating things to entertain herself with.

She said, "None but the pupils and teachers of Lowood, and now the inmates of Thornfield."

Yes, she was uninfluenced by society's glare. Clearly she was a woman of intellectual substance so I asked, "Have you read much?"

"Only such books as came in my way; and they have not been numerous or very learned." This answer could not be true because she was so articulate and confident as we spoke that evening. She had to have some kind of mind to develop these ideas and conduct herself in such a way.

Still I knew she had no one in the world and had not had an easy life from our previous dialogue. She certainly had a childhood far different from my own. I said, "You have lived the life of a nun: no doubt you are well drilled in religious forms;--Brocklehurst, who I understand directs Lowood, is a parson, is he not?"

"Yes, sir." Young girls and a parson: I knew where this would lead to.

I said, "And you girls probably worshipped him, as a convent full of religieuses would worship their director."

"Oh, no." She seemed embarrassed by the suggestion.

I said, "You are very cool! No! What! A novice not worship her priest! That sounds blasphemous."

"I disliked Mr. Brocklehurst; and I was not alone in the feeling. He is a harsh man; at once pompous and meddling; he cut off our hair; and for economy's sake bought us bad needles and thread, with which we could hardly sew."

"That was very false economy" said Mrs. Fairfax trying to make Miss Eyre more at ease but I was determined to find out if she had any prior lovers.

I said "And was that the head and front of his offending?"

Miss Eyre replied with dignity, "He starved us when he had the sole superintendence of the provision department, before the committee was appointed; and he bored us with long lectures once a week, and with evening readings from books of his own inditing, about sudden deaths and judgments, which made us afraid to go to bed."

"What age were you when you went to Lowood?"

"About ten." She must have been such a bitty little thing at that age. She survived, though, and was sitting before me now, a confident and captivating young woman.

I asked, "And you stayed there eight years: you are now, then, eighteen?" She nodded. She seemed uneasy with our conversation so I decided to find out what some of her talents were beyond her intelligent mind.

I said, "Arithmetic, you see, is useful; without its aid, I should hardly have been able to guess your age. It is a point difficult to fix where the features and countenance are so much at variance as in your case. And now what did you learn at Lowood? Can you play?"

"A little."

Oh, how many times had I heard this answer I my life? It seemed like every piano playing woman could only play a little as this was the answer given so she did not have to play. I was not going to let Miss Eyre off that easily so I said, "Of course: that is the established answer. Go into the library."

I suddenly I realized I was being a bit harsh so I said, "I mean, if you please.--Excuse my tone of command; I am used to say, 'Do this,' and it is done: I cannot alter my customary habits for one new inmate.--Go, then, into the library; take a candle with you; leave the door open; sit down to the piano, and play a tune." She left and headed to the library. She played nicely but she was certainly no protégée. After a few minutes, I found myself missing her company so I called, "Enough! You play A LITTLE, I see; like any other English school-girl; perhaps rather better than some, but not well."

She came back into the room slightly flushed. She was clearly not accustomed to showing off her talents in this way. I thought about the drawings I had seen earlier in the day and said, "Adele showed me some sketches this morning, which she said were yours. I don't know whether they were entirely of your doing; probably a master aided you?"

"No, indeed!" she exclaimed, her modesty making its presence known again.

"Ah! That pricks pride. Well, fetch me your portfolio, if you can vouch for its contents being original; but don't pass your word unless you are certain: I can recognize patchwork." I desperately wanted to see more of her work as there was something refreshingly real in the pieces I had seen in the morning. They were of real emotion and not just pretty scenes.

She said, "Then I will say nothing, and you shall judge for yourself, sir." She went to the library to get her portfolio. She seemed very protective of her pieces, as if she wished to hide something but I knew there was nothing she need hide from me. I was the one with the secrets.

When she came back into the room, I sad, "Approach the table." Adele and Mrs. Fairfax surrounded the table but I knew in order for me to really ascertain the artist's emotions I needed some space, as did she so I said, "No crowding. Take the drawings from my hand as I finish with them; but don't push your faces up to mine."

Each sketch was unique and I was fascinated by them. Some seemed to depict raw emotion while others had a more cheery disposition. They were not of the usual scenic fluff I have seen but created by an artist who had a genuine interest in her subject. The pencil work was so thoughtful and complete. I pulled a few out, one of some lovely green hills that I really liked and said to Mrs. Fairfax, "Take them off to the other table, Mrs. Fairfax and look at them with Adele;--you. Miss Eyre, resume your seat, and answer my questions. I perceive those pictures were done by one hand: was that hand yours?"

"Yes."

"And when did you find time to do them? They have taken much time, and some thought."

"I did them in the last two vacations I spent at Lowood, when I had no other occupation."

"Where did you get your copies?"

"Out of my head." She seemed to have a vivid imagination that loved nature almost as much as mine. I looked at her again and her eyes seemed to say, I am truly comfortable at this moment.

I said, "That head I see now on your shoulders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Has it other furniture of the same kind within?"

"I should think it may have: I should hope--better."

I looked at the pictures again. I could not find anything that seemed to show isolation and loneliness, which amazed me since the artist had such a difficult life. They all seemed friendly and confident, much like their artist. I thought more about her difficulties and her hardships, and how she seemed so good natured as we talked. I was enchanted by her and her eyes. I looked again at a portrait of a snowy scene and said, "Were you happy when you painted these pictures?"

"I was absorbed, sir: yes, and I was happy. To paint them, in short, was to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known." I thought to myself: such innocence in this pleasure. I only wish I could have found pleasure in things like this instead of the way I did 15 years ago. Her pleasures seemed so genuine yet mine so coarse.

I refused to let my own dark thoughts enter my mind and said, "That is not saying much. Your pleasures, by your own account, have been few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist's dreamland while you blend and arranged these strange tints. Did you sit at them long each day?"

"I had nothing else to do, because it was the vacation, and I sat at them from morning till noon, and from noon till night: the length of the midsummer days favoured my inclination to apply."

"And you felt self-satisfied with the result of your ardent labours?"

"Far from it. I was tormented by the contrast between my idea and my handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I was quite powerless to realize." She obviously had the soul of someone that only wanted the best but could she not see her own talent?

I wanted to encourage her and said, "Not quite: you have secured the shadow of your thought; but no more, probably. You had not enough of the artist's skill and science to give it full being: yet the drawings are, for a school- girl, peculiar. As to the thoughts, they are elfish. These eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream. How could you make them look so clear, and yet not at all brilliant? For the planet above quells their rays. And what meaning is that in their solemn depth? And who taught you to paint wind. There is a high gale in that sky, and on this hill-top. Where did you see Latmos? For that is Latmos. There! Put the drawings away!"

I knew I had said too much but could not help myself. Those eyes that seemed to see things so completely different than my own expressed things that only they could. I saw in her at that moment an innocence I desperately wanted as she packed her things away. Still I knew that innocence was pure and did not want my own darkness to discolour it so I said, "It is nine o'clock: what are you about, Miss Eyre, to let Adele sit up so long? Take her to bed." Adele came and kissed me but because of my own thoughts I hardly acknowledged the child. I had to get out of that room at once and said abruptly, "I wish you all good-night, now." I did not look at Miss Eyre as I left.

When I got to my room, I splashed some cold water on my face. I found myself feeling feelings I had not felt in many years and I was uncomfortable with them. She was so young and pure and I was completely enchanted by her witch's spell. Still I knew who I was I hoped to God she never would. I did not want that good spirit to know the evil I knew.

As I climbed into bed, I thought about Miss Eyre and her life. She seemed so positive for one who life had treated unfairly. It made me look at my life differently for a few moments. Than I began to think about her many gifts and talents, and wondered why she was so modest about her abilities. She amazed me and as I fell asleep, I wished that one day she would know how important her life is.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

I spent the next few days on various business matters that I had neglected during my absence from Thornfield. I saw Miss Eyre on occasion when we were both wandering along one of the hallways but I was careful not to converse too much for I seemed to go too far the last time we met. I did not like the effect she was having on me and thought avoidance the best course of action to take.

One afternoon after my ankle healed, I took my horse for a ride through the grounds to have a look at things. I found everything strangely alive for late winter months as it seemed like spring had come early to Thornfield. During my journey I traveled near the place where I first met Jane Eyre. I began to think about how her elf-like figure surprised me on that first meeting and how captivating she was. Since I was accident prone in these parts, I was careful not to get too lost in my thoughts so I turned the house around and rode back to the house. As I rode, I found myself wondering if Miss Eyre had any exercise today as I ascertained she was a good walker.

"Oh Edward," I thought to myself. "Her concerns are of no importance to you right now. Besides you have guests coming tomorrow." This woman had placed some kind of spell on me and I found myself thinking about her all too frequently. I knew she would never feel anything for me so I did everything I could to get her out of my mind including of thinking of other things when she came to my mind.

I planned a dinner with some of the wealthier members of the immediate neighborhood the next evening so I knew much of my time for the next day would be spent in preparation of that. I knew Mrs Fairfax would have plenty of activities for the staff to do that day so it was unlikely I would see Miss Eyre.

When my friends came to dinner, we met in the drawing room to discuss politics and business. As one of my friends began to drone on about the current state of government reform, I found myself missing Miss Eyre's lively conversation. She would certainly have something interesting to say on the subject of reform. I got up from my chair, excused myself and found Mrs. Fairfax, who was setting the table.

"Mrs. Fairfax," I said. "Please be sure that Miss Eyre and Adele join me in the drawing room for tea tonight. Oh and see if Miss Eyre would share her sketch book with my guests." The good lady nodded and I returned to my guests. I am not sure why I asked for the sketch books but as I found them so enchanting a few nights ago, I am sure my guests would as well. I sat down with them again and Mrs. Fairfax came back in with the sketch book.

"Here gentlemen, what do you make of these?" I said as I handed the book off to Mr. Smith who was sitting next to me. Smith was an excellent man and seemed interested enough in the book.

"Who drew these Rochester?" he asked after leafing through them. "The steadiness of hand is amazing."

"Why Jane Eyre. She is my ward's governess." Smith seemed taken a back by my answer.

"A governess? I thought you brought them back from your travels." I laughed at his response. The other gentlemen were less interested but dinner was ready to be served so we had other matters before us.

Dinner passed quickly and the gentlemen informed me they were going to a meeting in town that evening. I did not want to leave Thornfield that evening especially since I was expecting company for tea so I gave them my regrets and said goodbye. Before mounting his horse, Smith cam over to me and said, "Be sure to have that governess do some more sketches before I next visit Rochester." I smiled and said I would. I said goodbye to my friend and made my way into the house. Smith seemed a bit too enthusiastic about the governess for my liking so I put it out of my mind.

It was approaching tea time so I quickly changed into some less formal clothes for my meeting with Miss Eyre. I also grabbed a treat I had brought for Adele to entertain her while I conversed with Miss Eyre. I made my way back downstairs to the drawing room. They were not there so I placed the package on the table and sat down in my leather chair. After a few minutes I heard them come in.

"Ma boite! ma boite!" exclaimed Adele as she ran towards the package.

"Yes, there is your 'boite' at last: take it into a corner, you genuine daughter of Paris, and amuse yourself with disemboweling it. And mind, don't bother me with any details of the anatomical process, or any notice of the condition of the entrails: let your operation be conducted in silence: tiens-toi tranquille, enfant; comprends-tu?" I wished to speak only with Miss Eyre that evening and did not want any distractions from the child.

Adele unwrapped the present and I stared into the fire some more. "Oh ciel! Que c'est beau!" she exclaimed.

I had enough of the child for the evening so I said authoritatively, "Is Miss Eyre there?" I saw her petite frame in the doorway from my chair. She looked at me rather coolly as if she was upset at how I treated the child.

I said to Miss Eyre "Ah! well, come forward; be seated here," and pointed towards a nearby chair.

I then said "I am not fond of the prattle of children, for, old bachelor as I am; I have no pleasant associations connected with their lisp. It would be intolerable to me to pass a whole evening tete-e-tete with a brat."

Miss Eyre seemed to pull the chair further from me so I shouted, "Don't draw that chair farther off, Miss Eyre; sit down exactly where I placed it--if you please, that is. Confound these civilities! I continually forget them. Nor do I particularly affect simple-minded old ladies. By- the-bye, I must have mine in mind; it won't do to neglect her; she is a Fairfax, or wed to one; and blood is said to be thicker than water."

I rang the bell to signal for Mrs Fairfax to join us and said, "Good evening, madam; I sent to you for a charitable purpose. I have forbidden Adele to talk to me about her presents, and she is bursting with repletion: have the goodness to serve her as auditress and interlocutrice; it will be one of the most benevolent acts you ever performed."

Adele gleefully saw Mrs. Fairfax who was willing to listen to the child on the matter of her new present. I turned to Miss Eyre and resolutely declared, "Now I have performed the part of a good host, put my guests into the way of amusing each other, I ought to be at liberty to attend to my own pleasure. Miss Eyre, draw your chair still a little farther forward: you are yet too far back; I cannot see you without disturbing my position in this comfortable chair, which I have no mind to do." I hated her sitting so far away from me as I could not focus on her mesmerizing eyes as we conversed. She willingly did as she was asked and I found myself searching for something we could talk about. I stared into the fire in search of an appropriate subject for so what often entertained my male guests would offend one so innocent.

As I looked into the fire, I felt her eyes on me. I could hardly believe what was happening as I had felt eyes on me like that many times before but did not expect it from Miss Eyre. Still it seemed she could actually be interested in me and my haggard appearance. Could she actually feel something for me I thought? I knew I had a bit of an attraction but it seemed impossible she should feel the same way, which is why I tried to suppress my feelings. Still her eyes revealed something so I said, "You examine me, Miss Eyre. Do you think me handsome?"

She almost jumped at this question and said, "No, sir," so deliberately that I knew she was more interested than she let on.

I said, "Ah! By my word! There is something singular about you. You have the air of a little nonnette; quaint, quiet, grave, and simple, as you sit with your hands before you, and your eyes generally bent on the carpet (except, by-the-bye, when they are directed piercingly to my face; as just now, for instance); and when one asks you a question, or makes a remark to which you are obliged to reply, you rap out a round rejoinder, which, if not blunt, is at least brusque. What do you mean by it?"

"Sir, I was too plain; I beg your pardon. I ought to have replied that it was not easy to give an impromptu answer to a question about appearances; that tastes mostly differ; and that beauty is of little consequence, or something of that sort."

"You ought to have replied no such thing. Beauty of little consequence, indeed! And so, under pretence of softening the previous outrage, of stroking and soothing me into placidity, you stick a sly penknife under my ear! Go on: what fault do you find with me, pray? I suppose I have all my limbs and all my features like any other man?"

"Mr. Rochester, allow me to disown my first answer: I intended no pointed repartee: it was only a blunder."

I decided not to let her off as I was enjoying teasing her so I replied, "Just so: I think so: and you shall be answerable for it. Criticise me: does my forehead not please you?"

I lifted my tattered hair from my forehead and she seemed somewhat struck by the shape of my forehead so I said, "Now, ma'am, am I a fool?"

"Far from it, sir. You would, perhaps, think me rude if I inquired in return whether you are a philanthropist?"

"There again! Another stick of the penknife, when she pretended to pat my head: and that is because I said I did not like the society of children and old women (low be it spoken!). No, young lady, I am not a general philanthropist; but I bear a conscience, " I said as I pointed to another part of my head. Her eyes were still transfixed me and I enjoyed the attention I was receiving from this young woman. I continued "And, besides, I once had a kind of rude tenderness of heart. When I was as old as you, I was a feeling fellow enough, partial to the unfledged, unfostered, and unlucky; but Fortune has knocked me about since: she has even kneaded me with her knuckles, and now I flatter myself I am hard and tough as an India-rubber ball; pervious, though, through a chink or two still, and with one sentient point in the middle of the lump. Yes: does that leave hope for me?"

"Hope of what, sir?"

"Of my final re-transformation from India-rubber back to flesh?" I did not want to discuss too much of past that evening, and I could tell she was uncomfortable with my frank manner of speech and harsh opinions.

She became quiet and I saw a hint of blush in her cheeks. I said, "You looked very much puzzled, Miss Eyre; and though you are not pretty any more than I am handsome, yet a puzzled air becomes you; besides, it is convenient, for it keeps those searching eyes of yours away from my physiognomy, and busies them with the worsted flowers of the rug; so puzzle on. Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night."

Her blush revealed plenty to me. I knew she was interested in me so I stood up and placed my arms on the fire place. I knew she would be able to study my entire frame from that angle and perhaps by doing this, I could draw out more than she wanted. I said, "I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative to-night, and that is why I sent for you: the fire and the chandelier were not sufficient company for me; nor would Pilot have been, for none of these can talk. Adele is a degree better, but still far below the mark; Mrs. Fairfax ditto; you, I am persuaded, can suit me if you will: you puzzled me the first evening I invited you down here. I have almost forgotten you since: other ideas have driven yours from my head; but to-night I am resolved to be at ease; to dismiss what importunes, and recall what pleases. It would please me now to draw you out--to learn more of you--therefore speak."

She smiled complacently not offering anything so I said, again, "Speak."

"What about, sir?"

I could tell she was unwilling to discuss subjects close to her heart at this time so I said, "Whatever you like. I leave both the choice of subject and the manner of treating it entirely to yourself."

Yet still, nothing came out of her mouth. I said, "You are dumb, Miss Eyre."

I was getting slightly impatient with her unwillingness to speak for I thought we had a bit of a break through a few nights earlier. Still I was determined we would exchange some meaningful conversation and I said, "Stubborn and annoyed. Ah! It is consistent. I put my request in an absurd, almost insolent form. Miss Eyre, I beg your pardon. The fact is, once for all, I don't wish to treat you like an inferior: that is" (correcting himself), "I claim only such superiority as must result from twenty years' difference in age and a century's advance in experience. This is legitimate, et j'y tiens, as Adele would say; and it is by virtue of this superiority, and this alone, that I desire you to have the goodness to talk to me a little now, and divert my thoughts, which are galled with dwelling on one point--cankering as a rusty nail."

"I am," she finally replied, "willing to amuse you, if I can, sir--quite willing; but I cannot introduce a topic, because how do I know what will interest you? Ask me questions, and I will do my best to answer them."

"Then, in the first place, do you agree with me that I have a right to be a little masterful, abrupt, perhaps exacting, sometimes, on the grounds I stated, namely, that I am old enough to be your father, and that I have battled through a varied experience with many men of many nations, and roamed over half the globe, while you have lived quietly with one set of people in one house?"

"Do as you please, sir."

"That is no answer; or rather it is a very irritating, because a very evasive one. Reply clearly."

"I don't think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience."

"Humph! Promptly spoken. But I won't allow that, seeing that it would never suit my case, as I have made an indifferent, not to say a bad, use of both advantages. Leaving superiority out of the question, then, you must still agree to receive my orders now and then, without being piqued or hurt by the tone of command. Will you?"

She smiled sheepishly to herself and I had to know why.

I said, "The smile is very well but speak too."

"I was thinking, sir, that very few masters would trouble themselves to inquire whether or not their paid subordinates were piqued and hurt by their orders."

"Paid subordinates!" So she was going to bring up money I thought.

I said, "What! You are my paid subordinate, are you? Oh yes, I had forgotten the salary! Well then, on that mercenary ground, will you agree to let me hector a little?"

"No, sir, not on that ground; but, on the ground that you did forget it, and that you care whether or not a dependent is comfortable in his dependency, I agree heartily."

"And will you consent to dispense with a great many conventional forms and phrases, without thinking that the omission arises from insolence?"

"I am sure, sir, I should never mistake informality for insolence: one I rather like, the other nothing free-born would submit to, even for a salary."

She seemed completely uninterested in money. I said, "Humbug! Most things free-born will submit to anything for a salary; therefore, keep to yourself, and don't venture on generalities of which you are intensely ignorant. However, I mentally shake hands with you for your answer, despite its inaccuracy; and as much for the manner in which it was said, as for the substance of the speech; the manner was frank and sincere; one does not often see such a manner: no, on the contrary, affectation, or coldness, or stupid, coarse-minded misapprehension of one's meaning are the usual rewards of candour. Not three in three thousand raw school-girl-governesses would have answered me as you have just done. But I don't mean to flatter you: if you are cast in a different mould to the majority, it is no merit of yours: Nature did it. And then, after all, I go too fast in my conclusions: for what I yet know, you may be no better than the rest; you may have intolerable defects to counterbalance your few good points."

Her innocence was such a gift and I found myself reminiscing of a time when I cared little of worldly things. But I knew she was right and it was time for me to yield. I said, "Yes, yes, you are right. I have plenty of faults of my own: I know it, and I don't wish to palliate them, I assure you. God wot I need not be too severe about others; I have a past existence, a series of deeds, a colour of life to contemplate within my own breast, which might well call my sneers and censures from my neighbours to myself. I started, or rather (for like other defaulters, I like to lay half the blame on ill fortune and adverse circumstances) was thrust on to a wrong tack at the age of one-and- twenty, and have never recovered the right course since: but I might have been very different; I might have been as good as you-- wiser--almost as stainless. I envy you your peace of mind, your clean conscience, your unpolluted memory. Little girl, a memory without blot or contamination must be an exquisite treasure--an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment: is it not?"

"How was your memory when you were eighteen, sir?"

"All right then; limpid, salubrious: no gush of bilge water had turned it to fetid puddle. I was your equal at eighteen--quite your equal. Nature meant me to be, on the whole, a good man, Miss Eyre; one of the better kind, and you see I am not so. You would say you don't see it; at least I flatter myself I read as much in your eye (beware, by-the-bye, what you express with that organ; I am quick at interpreting its language). Then take my word for it,--I am not a villain: you are not to suppose that--not to attribute to me any such bad eminence; but, owing, I verily believe, rather to circumstances than to my natural bent, I am a trite commonplace sinner, hackneyed in all the poor petty dissipations with which the rich and worthless try to put on life. Do you wonder that I avow this to you? Know, that in the course of your future life you will often find yourself elected the involuntary confidant of your acquaintances' secrets: people will instinctively find out, as I have done, that it is not your forte to tell of yourself, but to listen while others talk of themselves; they will feel, too, that you listen with no malevolent scorn of their indiscretion, but with a kind of innate sympathy; not the less comforting and encouraging because it is very unobtrusive in its manifestations."

Here I wanted to understand her a little a better and was instead telling her of past my sins and a time I wished to forget. However she seemed completely interested in what I had to say of course she may have just longed to hear about a strangers idle mistakes.

She said, "How do you know?--how can you guess all this, sir?"

"I know it well; therefore I proceed almost as freely as if I were writing my thoughts in a diary. You would say, I should have been superior to circumstances; so I should--so I should; but you see I was not. When fate wronged me, I had not the wisdom to remain cool: I turned desperate; then I degenerated. Now, when any vicious simpleton excites my disgust by his paltry ribaldry, I cannot flatter myself that I am better than he: I am forced to confess that he and I are on a level. I wish I had stood firm--God knows I do! Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life."

"Repentance is said to be its cure, sir."

Oh if she knew how often I repented for my past and was still riddled with guilt.

I said, "It is not its cure. Reformation may be its cure; and I could reform--I have strength yet for that--if--but where is the use of thinking of it, hampered, burdened, cursed as I am? Besides, since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I WILL get it, cost what it may."

"Then you will degenerate still more, sir."

"Possibly: yet why should I, if I can get sweet, fresh pleasure? And I may get it as sweet and fresh as the wild honey the bee gathers on the moor."

"It will sting--it will taste bitter, sir."

She seemed so pious and honest, and here she was talking to a sinner such as me.

I said, "How do you know?--you never tried it. How very serious--how very solemn you look: and you are as ignorant of the matter as this cameo head. You have no right to preach to me, you neophyte, that have not passed the porch of life, and are absolutely unacquainted with its mysteries." I did not like the idea of her judging me like this and wanted desperately for this conversation to end.

She said, "I only remind you of your own words, sir: you said error brought remorse and you pronounced remorse the poison of existence."

"And who talks of error now? I scarcely think the notion that flittered across my brain was an error. I believe it was an inspiration rather than a temptation: it was very genial, very soothing--I know that. Here it comes again! It is no devil, I assure you; or if it be, it has put on the robes of an angel of light. I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entrance to my heart." I felt my darkness invading my thoughts once again.

She said, "Distrust it, sir; it is not a true angel."

"Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne--between a guide and a seducer?"

"I judged by your countenance, sir, which was troubled when you said the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it."

"Not at all--it bears the most gracious message in the world: for the rest, you are not my conscience-keeper, so don't make yourself uneasy. Here, come in, bonny wanderer!"

I felt my pain and despair come to me again. Oh I hated my secrets and lies but I was trapped and I had only myself to blame. I found myself lost in these dark thoughts but before I got too deep within them, I thought of Miss Eyre and her concern for my welfare. She had shown me threw her words that she actually did care for me in some way and I was touched by this.

Her eyes were still on me and I said, "Now, I have received the pilgrim--a disguised deity, as I verify believe. Already it has done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now be a shrine."

If only she knew how her words touched my soul.

She seemed upset my words and said, "To speak truth, sir, I don't understand you at all: I cannot keep up the conversation, because it has got out of my depth. Only one thing, I know: you said you were not as good as you should like to be, and that you regretted your own imperfection;--one thing I can comprehend: you intimated that to have a sullied memory was a perpetual bane. It seems to me, that if you tried hard, you would in time find it possible to become what you yourself would approve; and that if from this day you began with resolution to correct your thoughts and actions, you would in a few years have laid up a new and stainless store of recollections, to which you might revert with pleasure."

"Justly thought; rightly said, Miss Eyre; and, at this moment, I am paving hell with energy."

"Sir?"

"I am laying down good intentions, which I believe durable as flint. Certainly, my associates and pursuits shall be other than they have been." I knew the associate before me would help me be the type of person I wanted to be.

She said, "And better?"

"And better--so much better as pure ore is than foul dross. You seem to doubt me; I don't doubt myself: I know what my aim is, what my motives are; and at this moment I pass a law, unalterable as that of the Medes and Persians, that both are right."

"They cannot be, sir, if they require a new statute to legalise them."

"They are, Miss Eyre, though they absolutely require a new statute: unheard-of combinations of circumstances demand unheard-of rules."

I thought about how easy it would be if there was a way I could be free from the legal chains of my first marriage. I longed for something like that to happen. Still I could not share these feelings with the woman near me, who seemed more confused.

She said, "That sounds a dangerous maxim, sir; because one can see at once that it is liable to abuse."

"Sententious sage! so it is: but I swear by my household gods not to abuse it."

"You are human and fallible."

I knew I was human but so was she and I still could not fathom she could be this good.

I said, "I am: so are you--what then?"

"The human and fallible should not arrogate a power with which the divine and perfect alone can be safely entrusted."

"What power?"

"That of saying of any strange, unsanctioned line of action,--'Let it be right.'"

"'Let it be right'--the very words: you have pronounced them."

"MAY it be right then."

She rose from her seat and I could tell she was frustrated by our conversation. It became apparent to me that her goodness may never understand my darkness.

She was beginning to leave the room and I said, "Where are you going?"

"To put Adele to bed: it is past her bedtime."

"You are afraid of me, because I talk like a Sphynx."

"Your language is enigmatical, sir: but though I am bewildered, I am certainly not afraid." I knew she was upset by words and even slightly disturbed.

I said, "You ARE afraid--your self-love dreads a blunder."

"In that sense I do feel apprehensive--I have no wish to talk nonsense."

"If you did, it would be in such a grave, quiet manner, I should mistake it for sense. Do you never laugh, Miss Eyre? Don't trouble yourself to answer--I see you laugh rarely; but you can laugh very merrily: believe me; you are not naturally austere, any more than I am naturally vicious. The Lowood constraint still clings to you somewhat; controlling your features, muffling your voice, and restricting your limbs; and you fear in the presence of a man and a brother--or father, or master, or what you will--to smile too gaily, speak too freely, or move too quickly: but, in time, I think you will learn to be natural with me, as I find it impossible to be conventional with you; and then your looks and movements will have more vivacity and variety than they dare offer now. I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high. You are still bent on going?"

"It has struck nine, sir."

I did not want her to retire agitated and me the reason for it.

I said, "Never mind,--wait a minute: Adele is not ready to go to bed yet. My position, Miss Eyre, with my back to the fire, and my face to the room, favours observation. While talking to you, I have also occasionally watched Adele (I have my own reasons for thinking her a curious study,--reasons that I may, nay, that I shall, impart to you some day)." I found myself thinking about the last time I thought I was love and what that woman was like.

I continued, "She pulled out of her box, about ten minutes ago, a little pink silk frock; rapture lit her face as she unfolded it; coquetry runs in her blood, blends with her brains, and seasons the marrow of her bones. 'Il faut que je l'essaie!' cried she, 'et e l'instant meme!' and she rushed out of the room. She is now with Sophie, undergoing a robing process: in a few minutes she will re- enter; and I know what I shall see,--a miniature of Celine Varens, as she used to appear on the boards at the rising of-- But never mind that. However, my tenderest feelings are about to receive a shock: such is my presentiment; stay now, to see whether it will be realised."

Adele came back into the room and,just as I said she would, Adele pranced around in her new dress, showing us both how pretty she thought she was. I could tell Jane was thinking about what I had just old her and congratulated myself on my little victory.

"Est-ce que ma robe va bien?" Adele said as she pranced towards us, "et mes souliers? et mes bas? Tenez, je crois que je vais danser!"

She came towards me, spun in a circle and began to curtsey and said, "Monsieur, je vous remercie mille fois de votre bonte. C'est comme cela que maman faisait, n'est-ce pas, monsieur?"

"Pre-cise-ly!" I replied. "And, 'comme cela,'"

I turned to Miss Eyre and said, "She charmed my English gold out of my British breeches' pocket. I have been green, too, Miss Eyre,--ay, grass green: not a more vernal tint freshens you now than once freshened me. My Spring is gone, however, but it has left me that French floweret on my hands, which, in some moods, I would fain be rid of. Not valuing now the root whence it sprang; having found that it was of a sort which nothing but gold dust could manure, I have but half a liking to the blossom, especially when it looks so artificial as just now. I keep it and rear it rather on the Roman Catholic principle of expiating numerous sins, great or small, by one good work. I'll explain all this some day. Good- night."

Miss Eyre said good night and took Adele upstairs. Mrs. Fairfax came to me and asked if I needed anything else. I told her no and she retired for the evening. I slumped into my chair and thought about Miss Eyre. She was so different to the other women I had been with. Celine was as interested in material things as Adele is Bertha was completely another story, but Jane, I mean, Miss Eyre, seemed genuinely interested in conversation and my spiritual well being. I sighed and took a sip of wine. Could this elf-like creature be my savior from my darkness? As I stared at the fire, I found myself thinking I might actually be redeemed and this was all because of Jane Eyre. I felt more drawn to her then ever and hopeful for a future, possibly even with her. She did care about me so perhaps it was even acceptable for me to let my heart care for her in some way. I knew this creature would do me good.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

On a sunny afternoon, I joined Miss Eyre and Adele outside. I knew I had tell Miss Eyre about Celine Varens as I promised to do so the last time we talked. Still I hated to tell this young woman about my sordid past with my French mistress. It felt almost undignified to share this time in my life with one so innocent and pure. It made me loathe my connection with Celine even more.

As Adele played with Pilot, I told Miss Eyre about my insecurities about my appearance and how my grande passion for Celine blinded me from all things real.

"She made me feel I was handsome and adored even though my conscious mind told me other things," I said. "If you were as lost as I was at that time, Miss Eyre, you would understand my need for love and companionship. She filled that void."

Miss Eyre listened intently to what I was telling her. Her eyes stared into my own but there was no sign of judgment or horror as I confessed my past sins. I found myself thinking that she possibly appreciated me for who I was and not my money.

I continued, "And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, &c. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre. I had--as I deserved to have--the fate of all other spoonies. Happening to call one evening when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated so lately by her presence. No,--I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating virtue about her: it was rather a sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber, than an odour of sanctity. I was just beginning to stifle with the fumes of conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to open the window and step out on to the balcony. It was moonlight and gaslight besides, and very still and serene. The balcony was furnished with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar,--I will take one now, if you will excuse me."

I took out one of my prized Cuban cigars and lit in. I watched as Miss Eyre inhaled the smoke and saw a look of comfort in her eyes.

I smiled and said, "I liked bonbons too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was croquant-- (overlook the barbarism)--croquant chocolate comfits, and smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera-house, when in an elegant close carriage drawn by a beautiful pair of English horses, and distinctly seen in the brilliant city-night, I recognised the 'voiture' I had given Celine. She was returning: of course my heart thumped with impatience against the iron rails I leant upon. The carriage stopped, as I had expected, at the hotel door; my flame (that is the very word for an opera inamorata) alighted: though muffed in a cloak--an unnecessary encumbrance, by-the-bye, on so warm a June evening--I knew her instantly by her little foot, seen peeping from the skirt of her dress, as she skipped from the carriage-step. Bending over the balcony, I was about to murmur 'Mon ange'--in a tone, of course, which should be audible to the ear of love alone--when a figure jumped from the carriage after her; cloaked also; but that was a spurred heel which had rung on the pavement, and that was a hatted head which now passed under the arched porte cochere of the hotel."

I felt the green-eyed snake of jealousy enter into my soul again as I recalled those days. It took over then and still left its vile stain on my heart. I looked at Miss Eyre who seemed completely unaccustomed to these sorts of feelings. She had not been in love so how could she possibly understand this kind of dark feeling? I felt guilty for even sharing these times with her again and I hated myself a little more.

I said, "You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you--and you may mark my words--you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-wave into a calmer current- -as I am now.

"I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its antiquity, its retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it, shunned it like a great plague-house? How I do still abhor -"

I began to think of the woman upstairs and grind my teeth. She had destroyed my life and my soul, and took away all that was good in my life and my heart. As I thought about that beast, I struck my boot wishing it was her I was striking or my father for making me enter into that relationship. She hated me and destroyed me, and now I was left a bitter man with nothing but regret and a trail of mistresses in Europe. I so desperately wanted happiness but I could not find it as my past life always resurrected itself.

I continued walking with Miss Eyre in silence and we passed that disgusting wing in my house. I stared at it and felt all my anger re-enter my heart. Than I thought of this creature next to me who was completely ignorant to all of this and it made me hate my life even more. How I wanted to have this woman's ignorance. Her mind captivated me and it dawned on me that this woman would no doubt run from me if she found out about my past sins. I needed be around this elf-like creature as she gave me sense of hope that I had longed for.

I said, "During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood there, by that beech-trunk--a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. 'You like Thornfield?' she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento, which ran in lurid hieroglyphics all along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows, 'Like it if you can! Like it if you dare!'

"'I will like it,' said I; 'I dare like it;' and I will keep my word; I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness--yes, goodness. I wish to be a better man than I have been, than I am; as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hindrances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood."

Adele ran towards us but I needed to be alone with Miss Eyre. "Away," I shouted, "keep at a distance, child; or go in to Sophie!"

"Did you leave the balcony, sir when Mdlle. Varens entered?" she asked taking me back to my story about Celine.

"Oh, I had forgotten Celine! Well, to resume. When I saw my charmer thus come in accompanied by a cavalier, I seemed to hear a hiss, and the green snake of jealousy, rising on undulating coils from the moonlit balcony, glided within my waistcoat, and ate its way in two minutes to my heart's core. Strange!" I realized how much I was revealing to Miss Eyre and was startled by my openesss.

I said, "Strange that I should choose you for the confidant of all this, young lady; passing strange that you should listen to me quietly, as if it were the most usual thing in the world for a man like me to tell stories of his opera-mistresses to a quaint, inexperienced girl like you! But the last singularity explains the first, as I intimated once before: you, with your gravity, considerateness, and caution were made to be the recipient of secrets. Besides, I know what sort of a mind I have placed in communication with my own: I know it is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind: it is a unique one. Happily I do not mean to harm it: but, if I did, it would not take harm from me. The more you and I converse, the better; for while I cannot blight you, you may refresh me." After this digression he proceeded -

"I remained in the balcony. 'They will come to her boudoir, no doubt,' thought I: 'let me prepare an ambush.' So putting my hand in through the open window, I drew the curtain over it, leaving only an opening through which I could take observations; then I closed the casement, all but a chink just wide enough to furnish an outlet to lovers' whispered vows: then I stole back to my chair; and as I resumed it the pair came in. My eye was quickly at the aperture. Celine's chamber-maid entered, lit a lamp, left it on the table, and withdrew. The couple were thus revealed to me clearly: both removed their cloaks, and there was 'the Varens,' shining in satin and jewels,--my gifts of course,--and there was her companion in an officer's uniform; and I knew him for a young roue of a vicomte--a brainless and vicious youth whom I had sometimes met in society, and had never thought of hating because I despised him so absolutely. On recognising him, the fang of the snake Jealousy was instantly broken; because at the same moment my love for Celine sank under an extinguisher. A woman who could betray me for such a rival was not worth contending for; she deserved only scorn; less, however, than I, who had been her dupe.

"They began to talk; their conversation eased me completely: frivolous, mercenary, heartless, and senseless, it was rather calculated to weary than enrage a listener. A card of mine lay on the table; this being perceived, brought my name under discussion. Neither of them possessed energy or wit to belabour me soundly, but they insulted me as coarsely as they could in their little way: especially Celine, who even waxed rather brilliant on my personal defects--deformities she termed them. Now it had been her custom to launch out into fervent admiration of what she called my 'beaute male:' wherein she differed diametrically from you, who told me point-blank, at the second interview, that you did not think me handsome. The contrast struck me at the time and--"

Adele here came running up again.

"Monsieur, John has just been to say that your agent has called and wishes to see you."

I did not want our conversation to end for there was more I wanted to reveal to Miss Eyre but I had to be careful because I did not know her feelings.

I said, "Ah! in that case I must abridge. Opening the window, I walked in upon them; liberated Celine from my protection; gave her notice to vacate her hotel; offered her a purse for immediate exigencies; disregarded screams, hysterics, prayers, protestations, convulsions; made an appointment with the vicomte for a meeting at the Bois de Boulogne. Next morning I had the pleasure of encountering him; left a bullet in one of his poor etiolated arms, feeble as the wing of a chicken in the pip, and then thought I had done with the whole crew. But unluckily the Varens, six months before, had given me this filette Adele, who, she affirmed, was my daughter; and perhaps she may be, though I see no proofs of such grim paternity written in her countenance: Pilot is more like me than she. Some years after I had broken with the mother, she abandoned her child, and ran away to Italy with a musician or singer. I acknowledged no natural claim on Adele's part to be supported by me, nor do I now acknowledge any, for I am not her father; but hearing that she was quite destitute, I e'en took the poor thing out of the slime and mud of Paris, and transplanted it here, to grow up clean in the wholesome soil of an English country garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but now you know that it is the illegitimate offspring of a French opera- girl, you will perhaps think differently of your post and protegee: you will be coming to me some day with notice that you have found another place--that you beg me to look out for a new governess, &c.- -Eh?"

She replied sweetly, "No: Adele is not answerable for either her mother's faults or yours: I have a regard for her; and now that I know she is, in a sense, parentless--forsaken by her mother and disowned by you, sir-- I shall cling closer to her than before. How could I possibly prefer the spoilt pet of a wealthy family, who would hate her governess as a nuisance, to a lonely little orphan, who leans towards her as a friend?"

"Oh, that is the light in which you view it! Well, I must go in now; and you too: it darkens."

I walked back to Thornfield wishing it was closer to tea time when I might have the pleasure of conversing with Miss Eyre again. John met me at the entrance and we dealt with some dreary business matters for the rest of the afternoon but my mind was fixated on Miss Eyre and I could hardly concentrate.

"Sir, are you well?" John asked.

"I am fine John. Lets finish early today and I will return to all of this tomorrow." John left me in my study to my thoughts.

I thought of Miss Eyre and how I longed for her company. I wanted to know her completely. I tried to take up a book to pass the time before tea but it was of no use for I was lost in my thoughts of Miss Eyre.

Finally it was time for tea and I went to the drawing room and waited for Miss Eyre to appear. She entered and claimed a seat near me. We talked of the rest of her day and her time with Adele, who was playing with Pilot on the other side of the room. Miss Eyre seemed as happy to sit with me as I was to sit near her. She laughed at my cynical words regarding the monarch and life. The fire made her luminous skin glow and her eyes invaded my soul.

I thought of what her skin would feel like and how soft and smooth it would feel. As I watched her lips move while she talked, I thought of how gentle they would feel against my own and how light her frame would be in my embrace.

Suddenly I heard her speak, "Sir, it is Adele's bedtime. I must retire for the evening."

I hated the thought of her leaving me but I knew I had to oblige.

"Goodnight Miss Eyre," I said.

"Goodnight Mr Rochester," she answered back.

I went to bed that evening with thoughts only of Jane Eyre in my head. This elf-like creature had bewitched me completely and I longed to be near her, conversing. How I hated the night because I wanted to see Jane again. It hit me as I fell asleep that I was in love with her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

That night my sleep was filled with dreams of Jane Eyre. In one dream we were together walking through the grounds of Thornfield, arm and arm, completely content to be in each other's company. As I leaned in towards her, I heard the demonic laugh of that other woman.

"Be quiet you beast," I shouted. I looked back at Jane whose eyes were puzzled by my violent reaction. I kissed her cheek and said I was only day-dreaming knowing full well she had heard that laugh as I did.

As the dream continued, we went back into the house and towards my room. Again I heard that evil laugh but ignored it as I was kissing Jane passionately. Her little arms were wrapped around me and I felt the heat of the moment throughout my entire body. I knew we were entering a territory I was not fully prepared for but I did not care for in her arms I felt completely comfortable. We found my bed and I laid down on it. I closed my eyes and waited patiently for her.

Suddenly she spoke, "Wake! wake!"

"I am awake my dear," I replied. "Wait do not leave me," I said as I heard the door close. I sighed and wondered what my peculiar elf could be up to. As I stood up to find her, I felt a shocking feeling of damp coldness on my body.

I woke from my dream soaked to the bone and flew from my bed. Startled, I cried, "Is there a flood?"

"No, sir," was the answer. I realized she was in my room just as she had been while I was in my slumber.

She continued, "But there has been a fire: get up, do; you are quenched now; I will fetch you a candle."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing but I knew the speaker of these words to be completely honest. Still I could not fathom this sorceress was awake and with me.

I said, "In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre? What have you done with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you? Have you plotted to drown me?"

"I will fetch you a candle, sir; and, in Heaven's name, get up. Somebody has plotted something: you cannot too soon find out who and what it is."

Finally feeling alert and not in a dreamlike state, I said, "There! I am up now; but at your peril you fetch a candle yet: wait two minutes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there be--yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!"

She left the room to fetch a candle. Confused and cold, I put on my dressing gown. I was still completely unaware of the severity of the situation. She came back into the room as quickly as she left with a candle in her little hand.

I said, "What is it? and who did it?"

She told me how she had been stirred from a restless sleep and heard a strange laugh. I knew immediately who this laugh belonged to but continued to listen to her story. Jane had seen a figure disappear to the third story and I cursed Grace Poole for letting the mad beast out. Jane went on to tell me how she found me in my room with flames engulfed around me. Oh how frightened she must have been and I longed to take her in my arms and ease her suffering. Still I knew things could have been much more sever if Bertha had had her way.

When she finished, she asked, "Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?"

Mrs. Fairfax was the last person I wanted at this moment as I knew exactly where I had to go.

I replied, "Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested."

"Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife."

"Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and sit down in the arm-chair: there,--I will put it on. Now place your feet on the stool, to keep them out of the wet. I am going to leave you a few minutes. I shall take the candle. Remain where you are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to the second storey. Don't move, remember, or call any one."

I handed her my cloak and left the room. When I reached the third story, I found Grace Poole awake. She explained that she had been asleep when Bertha escaped. I could not completely fault her for her negligence as the woman deserved to sleep but I knew Mrs. Poole carried a small bottle with her at all times.

"We were fortunate tonight that things were not worse Mrs. Poole but I am fearful about what could have happened. Please ensure in the future that should you fall asleep you take care to hide your key and make sure candles are out or at least not within in Bertha's grasp." She nodded and I went to see Bertha.

She lay on her bed with a wicked smile on her face as I entered. I wanted to strike her but knew this would get me nowhere. Instead I knelt down beside her and whispered coldly in her ear, "I never want to see you downstairs again. I will visit more frequently but know I do not love you." I am not even sure she heard me or understood my words as her expression did not change when I spoke. I left her room and returned to my chamber.

I hated that wretch almost as much as much as I hated myself for what happened. I tried to find some pity for her in my heart but I could only think of the pain she had caused me these many years and I resented her for it. God forgive me but I wished she were dead at that moment.

With these sinful thoughts in my head, I entered my room and saw Jane in my robe. I felt a profound sense of guilt for my evil thoughts for I knew Jane would never hate a human as it was completely against her nature. She stared at me and rose as I cam back into the room.

I said, "I have found it all out; it is as I thought."

"How, sir?"

At this moment I knew I had to be careful with what message I conveyed to her. I had to be sure not accuse any servant she might encounter the next say.

I asked her, "I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door."

"No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground."

"But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I should think, or something like it?"

"Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole,--she laughs in that way. She is a singular person."

So she thought that awful voice was that of Grace Poole. Since I knew she would have little conduct with Mrs. Poole, I decided to keep this idea alive in her mind.

I said, "Just so. Grace Poole--you have guessed it. She is, as you say, singular--very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of to-night's incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs" (pointing to the bed): "and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four:- in two hours the servants will be up."

"Good-night, then, sir," she said and began to leave the room. Something deep within in me did not want her to leave in such a cold manner. I wanted to be near her after this destructive night. I did not want her to leave even though the servants would be up soon. I wanted her to stay with me.

"What!" I exclaimed, "are you quitting me already, and in that way?"

"You said I might go, sir."

"But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!--snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands."

I longed to feel her skin and this was the only way it would appropriate for me to do so. As she stretched out her petite, delicate fingers towards my own giant ones, I took her hand into both of mine. At that moment I wanted to protect her and shield her from all the evils of my world.

I said, "You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but you: it is different;--I feel your benefits no burden, Jane." I wanted to tell her how I felt but I did not know if she felt the same and I could not bear to lose her so I with held my feelings for the moment.

She said, "Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case."

Her kindness touched my heart deeply just as it did when we first met. She was so brave that dark evening and I only wished she knew how much she meant to me.

I said, "I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time;--I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not." I stopped myself before I told her what her eyes did to my heart. I had lost control of my senses as they stared at me while I talked.

I stuttered, "Did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, goodnight!" I was wrong to talk about my inmost heart but surely she would understand what I was trying to tell her for Jane Eyre was not a stupid young woman.

"I am glad I happened to be awake," she replied. This answer struck me as it was so without feeling.

"What! you WILL go?" I said.

"I am cold, sir."

"Cold? Yes,--and standing in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!"

I knew I should let her go for I did not want her to become ill but I could not let go of her tender hand. It felt right in my own. She struggled to free it but I would not let her escape. I wanted her near me.

"I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir," she said.

"Well, leave me." I could not stop her. I had to let her go for she did not want to stay with me. She left my room and my heart sank. She did not share my feelings as I wished she did and I felt like a prisoner once again in Thornfield for I was too close to her.

I looked at the state of my room and went to the library. I figured insomnia would remain with me for the rest of the night. I sat on the sofa in the library and tried to not think about the night. Between my sweet dream, the diabolic fire and Jane's coldness, nothing could relax my nerves. She did not love me as I loved her. I was simply her master even though she was mistress of my heart. I lay down on the sofa and closed my eyes but as I did so, all I could do was picture Jane and feel her hand in my own. I knew being in this house would do me no good so I decided to visit some of my friends in the neighborhood, such as Eshton or the Ingrams, once dawn woke. I needed to get away from Jane Eyre, and try and compose my feelings and escape her spell.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I woke before dawn as my sleep was restless from the turbulent evening. I dressed myself and made my way to the stable where John was busy at work. I told him about the fire and explained that I fell asleep while reading and left a candle burning. The last thing I needed were servants poking around on the third floor or asking Jane what had happened. He was very attentive and told me he would explain everything to Mrs Fairfax in as soon as she was awake. I thanked him, told him I would write Mrs Fairfax when I was ready to return to Thornfield and got on my horse. He bid me goodbye and I rode away from Thornfield.

As I travelled down the road where I first met my beloved, I felt her presence invade my soul again. I hated leaving her without saying goodbye but I knew I had to get away before I revealed too much of myself to her. As I rounded the curve where I fell off my horse, I thought of the tiny little frame that helped me on that evening. I did not know then how I would now feel but there was something about our meeting that evening that was different from any before. Jane was so brave that night and I was instantly drawn to her self-assured manners and helpful soul. It was not until now that I realized how much of an impact she would have on my heart.

I sighed and tried to ride faster. I had to get to Eshton's and get these thoughts of Jane Eyre out of my head. Pilot ran on ahead of me and I soon found myself entering the outskirts of the village. I rode onto Eshton's and arrived shortly before breakfast. I was met by his horseman who informed his master was travelling to Ingram Park. I decided at that moment I would join him for surely the remedial society available there would be a welcome distraction for my heavy heart. Eshton soon joined us outside.

"Rochester!" he exclaimed. "I certainly did not expect you." I shook his hand and felt strangely discontent amongst his warm and friendly manners.

"Well I decided to go for a morning ride and this is where I ended up," I replied.

"I am about to travel to Ingram Park for the party. You knew about it?"

Oh how could I forget Lady Ingram's vain invitation for a small gathering of the local gentry? I told him I had received it but did not reply because household matters had kept me busy.

"Come in and breakfast with me before we ride on," he said and I followed him into his home. His dining room was not overly elegant but it suited his lifestyle. He was a family man after-all and a committed academic. As we sat at the table, he told me his wife and children had gone to visit a sister for a fortnight. She did not enjoy gatherings at Ingram Park and did everything in her power to avoid them. Eshton was overly courteous about neighbourly things and was always present at these tedious gatherings.

We sipped our coffee and had some porridge. He talked about some new research which kept him occupied. I listened but my entire mind was focused on other things. I thought of Jane and how she would be so interested in what he was telling me about. She was so inquisitive and her mind devoured any knowledge it could obtain. She would certainly have some insightful questions about biology for Eshton.

"Rochester?" Eshton asked suddenly. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes," I replied trying to refocus my attention on my friend.

"You seemed lost Edward. Is everything fair at Thornfield?"

Eshton knew me well enough to know when I was uneasy. Although he knew nothing of my secret, he understood my moods and temperament. He had been with me in Europe when I tried to escape from myself and saved me on occasion from drinking my sorrows away. I knew it would be virtually impossible to keep my feelings for Jane a secret from him for he was too well acquainted with me. Besides, two secrets would be too difficult to keep from a friend as good as Eshton.

I said, "Esthton, things at Thornfield are as good as they have been since I returned from Europe." I smiled contently, took a sip of my coffee and proceeded to tell him about Jane. As I concluded my story, minus the fire, he seemed amused.

"Could it be that the elusive Edward Rochester is in love?"

"She has bewitched my heart and cast her spell over my soul. She is so different from any woman that I have ever known my friend. I cannot help myself. I had to escape her before I revealed too much."

"Surely, Edward, she would not be offended by your feelings from what you have told me. She seems too sweet natured and intelligent to hurt you deliberately. Although I have never met Miss Eyre, I have known you long enough to know you would not deliberately throw your life away."

I chuckled at this comment for I knew differently.

He continued, "If you love this woman then why not propose to her? You want that kind of stability correct?"

Yes I did long for that kind of stability and the saneness that Jane possessed but I also knew the solution was not so simple in my circumstance.

"Edward why are you here and not with her?"

"Because I wanted your advice but since you are off to Ingram Park, I will have to follow you there to get it." He knew how I loathed Ingram Park and probably suspected other reasons for my hasty departure from my beloved. Still I could not reveal the whole nature of my problem to my friend for someone like him would immediately depart from me if he knew.

"Eshton," I said. "I am running from my feelings because I am unsure of myself. Let me accompany you to Ingram Park and maybe we can sort out my situation." We concluded our breakfast and left his home. On our way to Ingram Park, he spoke warmly of his family in an effort to persuade me how wonderful marriage and family are.

We entered the lush grounds of Ingram Park. I felt myself become cold as we saw the great house and its pompous exterior. I hated this kind of garishness but tried to put these thoughts out of my mind. I found myself thinking about my sweet Jane when Blanche Ingram rode up to me.

"Hello Mr Rochester," she said coyly. "This is a pleasant surprise."

I looked at her. Her raven hair blew in the wind and her eyes showed me her delight in seeing me. She was dressed in a plush suit and looked like she had spent half the morning preparing herself for me. I hated her decadence but then something infinitely better crossed my mind. It was something that was deceitful and hardly good but I was desperate to know how Jane felt about me and this was the only way I would be able to.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

With a party of ladies and gentlemen, not that I believed all of them to be so noble, I made my way back to Thornfield and to dear Jane. I found after about a fortnight without her presence, I longed for her intelligent conversation and engaging eyes. Although I was surrounded by peers I was lonely for her. I told Eshton how I was feeling and he gave me the idea to take the party back to Thornfield sooner than I had originally planned. Normally I stayed at these parties for a month but a fortnight was more than long enough for me to be parted from Jane.

Blanche Ingram rode with me and Eshton which I did not particularly enjoy but I knew it was a necessity I would have to endure if I were to put my plan into action. I doted on Blanche or at least gave her the opinion I was doting on her. She was obstinate and flirtatious, which most men in my position would probably adore. After dinner we would all play cards and Blanche would often sit beside me and tell me her nonsense. It seems she has an interest in the supernatural and has been studying it, which she talked about at length. I knew she was trying to show me her intellect but her opinions on the supernatural were those of a school girl who liked scary stories. Whenever I was tired of her, I would excuse myself with some excuse of a headache or something else.

As we rode to Thornfield, Blanche told us of how she loved the great outdoors and felt all young women should ride as she did. I told her she was the most accomplished rider I knew which she seemed to delight it. She decided to race me to the grounds and wanting to see Jane sooner as opposed to later, I indulged her. Of course I won and met John at the front door. He took my horse to the stable and I went inside to find Jane. Mrs Fairfax greeted me warmly.

"Sir, welcome home," she said. "I hope you and your guests find everything to your liking. Dinner will be at four."

"Excellent," I replied. "Tell me where is Adele and her governess?" My body shook lightly as I thought of how close I was to Jane again. I hoped I would find her in good spirits and eager to converse but I also knew I had to be guarded.

Mrs. Fairfax said, "They are having a biology lesson on the grounds somewhere sir."

I was disappointed but knew this was for the best. I decided it would be unwise to see Jane immediately so asked Mrs. Fairfax to make sure Jane and Adele were at dinner the following evening. She seemed surprised by my request but agreed to it. I left Mrs. Fairfax and met my guests.

The rest of the afternoon was sent settling back into Thornfield. I was anxious but knew I had to be careful with myself or Jane would know my feelings too soon. As I ate dinner with my guests and played cards afterwards, I felt her spirit near me. I looked around the room, but alas, she was not there. While talking to Mrs. Ingram about some trivial matter, I thought I heard some French being softly spoken above me. I glanced to the balcony and saw my darling Jane kneeling with Adele admiring the visitors. I wanted to be the child at that moment as she was close to Jane. I felt my stomach flutter with excitement but returned to my conversation with Mrs. Ingram.

That night I was restless and went for a walk through the hallways while the rest of the house slept. I walked towards Jane's door, knowing I was doing something intolerably impure but I did not care. I leaned against it hoping I might breathe in her scent. I heard her stir a bit in her sleep and imagined what my fairy looked like as she slept. I slowly began to turn the brass door knob but stopped myself when I came to my senses. I went back to my room and, after a strong whiskey, I fell asleep.

The following day, I rode through the grounds with Blanche, taking pains to ride in areas where I would be within Jane's sight. Although I did not see her, I felt confident she would see me and Miss Ingram. It was wrong of me to play with Jane's possible jealousy but I had to determine if she had any kind feelings for me before I could reveal my own. Plus there was something strangely comforting about using Miss Blanche Ingram as she was such an obstinate woman.

I dressed for dinner with care that evening for I wanted to make my horrid self as presentable as possible. If I looked my best, surely Jane would notice. It was soon reaching dinner time and I was till trying to neaten my mangy hair. After a few minutes I went down to the dining room in my black dining suit. When I entered I felt her eyes on me. I dared not look at them directly for I knew she would see into my soul and know all that I was feeling, so I made my way to the Eshton girls who had arrived in the morning to start up a conversation.

As the coffee was served, Jane remained almost gravely silent and none of guests except the Eshtons took any notice of her. While she was talking to Eshton, I looked at her. Her cheeks were slightly coloured and she seemed like a fine winter rose. Before Jane could see me staring at her, Blanche came over to me.

She said in her arrogant way, "Mr. Rochester, I thought you were not fond of children?"

"Nor am I," I replied knowing Jane was listening to us.

"Then, what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that? Where did you pick her up?"

I was angered by the way she pointed in such a prideful way towards Adele but composed myself and replied, "I did not pick her up; she was left on my hands."

"You should have sent her to school."

"I could not afford it: schools are so dear." What I wanted to tell her is I prefer the governess who you have completely ignored but could not do so.

She said, "Why, I suppose you have a governess for her: I saw a person with her just now--is she gone? Oh, no! there she is still, behind the window-curtain. You pay her, of course; I should think it quite as expensive,--more so; for you have them both to keep in addition."

"I have not considered the subject," I said, tiring of the conversation.

"No, you men never do consider economy and common sense. You should hear mama on the chapter of governesses: Mary and I have had, I should think, a dozen at least in our day; half of them detestable and the rest ridiculous, and all incubi--were they not, mama?"

"Did you speak, my own?" I tuned out of the conversation at this point. I knew Blanche was trying to insult Jane and I wanted to tell her she was insulting me in the process but contained myself. The conversation angered me.

I heard Mrs Ingram say something harsh about governesses and said, "What are they, madam?"

"I will tell you in your private ear," replied she, wagging her turban three times with portentous significancy.

"But my curiosity will be past its appetite; it craves food now."

"Ask Blanche; she is nearer you than I." Mrs. Ingram had clearly chosen me for her daughter.

"Oh, don't refer him to me, mama!," Blanche said giggling. "I have just one word to say of the whole tribe; they are a nuisance. Not that I ever suffered much from them; I took care to turn the tables. What tricks Theodore and I used to play on our Miss Wilsons, and Mrs. Greys, and Madame Jouberts! Mary was always too sleepy to join in a plot with spirit. The best fun was with Madame Joubert: Miss Wilson was a poor sickly thing, lachrymose and low-spirited, not worth the trouble of vanquishing, in short; and Mrs. Grey was coarse and insensible; no blow took effect on her. But poor Madame Joubert! I see her yet in her raging passions, when we had driven her to extremities--spilt our tea, crumbled our bread and butter, tossed our books up to the ceiling, and played a charivari with the ruler and desk, the fender and fire-irons. Theodore, do you remember those merry days?"

There gossip and slander continued for some time. I glanced at Jane who was listening intently and thought I saw tears in her eyes. She knew as I did what these people were about and I longed to tell her to not let their harsh words penetrate her pride. Eshton mouthed something about changing the subject which I attempted to do when Blanche said, "I suppose, now we shall have an abstract of the memoirs of all the governesses extant: in order to avert such a visitation, I again move the introduction of a new topic. Mr. Rochester, do you second my motion?"

"Madam, I support you on this point, as on every other," I said with enthusiasm. For once I agreed completely with her.

"Then on me be the onus of bringing it forward. Signior Eduardo, are you in voice to-night?"

Singing was perfect because than I could tell Jane my true feelings without her knowing.

I said, "Donna Bianca, if you command it, I will be."

"Then, signior, I lay on you my sovereign behest to furbish up your lungs and other vocal organs, as they will be wanted on my royal service."

"Who would not be the Rizzio of so divine a Mary?"

"A fig for Rizzio!" cried she. "It is my opinion the fiddler David must have been an insipid sort of fellow; I like black Bothwell better: to my mind a man is nothing without a spice of the devil in him; and history may say what it will of James Hepburn, but I have a notion, he was just the sort of wild, fierce, bandit hero whom I could have consented to gift with my hand."

"Gentlemen, you hear! Now which of you most resembles Bothwell?" I said finally feeling interested in the conversation,

"I should say the preference lies with you," responded Colonel Dent.

"On my honour, I am much obliged to you," I replied.

I joined Blanche at the piano wishing it was Jane who I was with.

Blanche said, "Oh, I am so sick of the young men of the present day! Poor, puny things, not fit to stir a step beyond papa's park gates: nor to go even so far without mama's permission and guardianship! Creatures so absorbed in care about their pretty faces, and their white hands, and their small feet; as if a man had anything to do with beauty! As if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman--her legitimate appanage and heritage! I grant an ugly WOMAN is a blot on the fair face of creation; but as to the GENTLEMEN, let them be solicitous to possess only strength and valour: let their motto be:- Hunt, shoot, and fight: the rest is not worth a fillip. Such should be my device, were I a man.

"Whenever I marry," she continued after a pause which none interrupted, "I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me. I will suffer no competitor near the throne; I shall exact an undivided homage: his devotions shall not be shared between me and the shape he sees in his mirror. Mr. Rochester, now sing, and I will play for you."

"I am all obedience," I said. I was completely fixated on making sure my performance was perfection so I decided to flirt slightly with Miss Ingram/

"Here then is a Corsair-song. Know that I doat on Corsairs; and for that reason, sing it con spirito."

"Commands from Miss Ingram's lips would put spirit into a mug of milk and water."

"Take care, then: if you don't please me, I will shame you by showing how such things SHOULD be done."

"That is offering a premium on incapacity: I shall now endeavour to fail."

"Gardez-vous en bien! If you err wilfully, I shall devise a proportionate punishment."

"Miss Ingram ought to be clement, for she has it in her power to inflict a chastisement beyond mortal endurance." Oh if she only understood my sarcasm. Jane I hoped knew my true meaning.

"Ha! explain!" commanded Blanche.

Of course Blanche was too silly to understand me so I said, "Pardon me, madam: no need of explanation; your own fine sense must inform you that one of your frowns would be a sufficient substitute for capital punishment."

"Sing!"

As I began my song about a man and his secret love, I thought about the words and who I was singing about. Lost in the lyrics of the first verse, I saw Jane slip away into the hall. Fortunately for me the song was short and even though I felt the words deeply I did not want it to continue for I wanted to be with Jane. When it ended, I accepted my applause and went to find Jane before Blanche asked me to do another.

Perhaps I had flirted too much or Jane did not care for my singing but when I saw her in the hallway, she looked hurt. Her eyes revealed some sadness that I wanted to uncover. I said, "How do you do?"

"I am very well, sir."

"Why did you not come and speak to me in the room?" After all we were friends at the very least so it surprised me she never spoke to me.

She said timidly, "I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged, sir."

"What have you been doing during my absence?"

"Nothing particular; teaching Adele as usual."

As she spoke, I looked at her skin which was almost transparent. I said "And getting a good deal paler than you were--as I saw at first sight. What is the matter?"

"Nothing at all, sir."

I said, "Did you take any cold that night you half drowned me?"

"Not she least."

I wanted her beside me for the rest of the evening. I wanted to have a meaningful conversation with a woman and Jane was the only woman I wanted to converse with. I said, "Return to the drawing-room: you are deserting too early."

"I am tired, sir."

I looked at her saw tears filing her eyes. I longed to take her in my arms and tell her there was no need for those tears. Suddenly I understood why she had these tears: she had some kind of feeling for me.

I said, "And a little depressed. What about? Tell me."

"Nothing--nothing, sir. I am not depressed."

"But I affirm that you are: so much depressed that a few more words would bring tears to your eyes--indeed, they are there now, shining and swimming; and a bead has slipped from the lash and fallen on to the flag. If I had time, and was not in mortal dread of some prating prig of a servant passing, I would know what all this means. Well, to-night I excuse you; but understand that so long as my visitors stay, I expect you to appear in the drawing-room every evening; it is my wish; don't neglect it. Now go, and send Sophie for Adele. Good-night, my--" Before I could say love, I stopped myself and said good night.

I went back into the drawing room and let Blanche talk to me. I did not listen to her silly words for my thoughts were consumed with Jane. She felt something for me but I was still unsure if it was love or loyalty or friendship. She may have simply been crying over the harsh words that were said about governesses but something told me there was more to those tears than I fully understood. As Blanche tried to engage me in conversation, I thought about Jane and her glowing cheeks that blushed over dinner. That blush showed me there was more to Jane's feelings than she was revealing but I had to find out what hers were before I could share my own.


	9. Chapter 9

As my visitors continued their stay at Thornfield, Jane seemed to distance herself more from me and it was clear the feelings she thought I had for Miss Ingram were effecting her spirits. During our conversation on the pervious night, I felt her uneasy manners and longed to put her worried mind at rest but I knew it was too soon for me to act, especially with a house full of people. I knew Jane would be joining us after tea so I made up my mind to play charades to see if I could get her to reveal any more of her feelings. I consulted Eshton about my plan. He warned me to be careful about the lady's feelings and assured him I was doing everything in my power to make sure my Jane would be unharmed.

When Jane came in the room, I prepared for our game along with Eshton and Dent. I saw Jane helping Mrs Dent and went over to her and said "Will you play?" She shook her head and I knew I would be unable to change her mind. I went behind the curtain and prepared.

I rang the bell for our play to begin. Sir George went on stage and I watched from the background. As I watched I felt Blanche come near me. When I saw her standing next to me in her bridal costume I almost ended the charade there because I did not want Blanche to be my bride that night. Still I let things continue and followed Blanche on stage.

We played the marriage play. I watched Jane attentively who seemed saddened by what we were doing. Before I completely came out of character, Dent called, "Bride!" I bowed and the curtain came down.

For the next scene we created the conservatory. I dressed in a turban and felt Jane's eyes piercing into me. Before I could catch my breath, Blanche entered in her crimson costume, again distracting me from my beloved. She performed her dance as Rebecca and I tried not to let the character of Eliezer overpower me.

Again the curtain fell and I dressed myself in disheveled attire. As I took on my next character I thought about my darkness trying not to let it overpower me and completely distract me from the play. With that Dent said, "Bridwell!" There was applause all around.

Blanche came in and said, "Do you know that, of the three characters, I liked you in the last best? Oh, had you but lived a few years earlier, what a gallant gentleman-highwayman you would have made!" Her comments annoyed me so I changed the subject.

"Is all the soot washed from my face?" I replied.

"Alas! yes: the more's the pity! Nothing could be more becoming to your complexion than that ruffian's rouge."

"You would like a hero of the road then?"

"An English hero of the road would be the next best thing to an Italian bandit; and that could only be surpassed by a Levantine pirate." I thought about when I had first met my beloved on the roadside. Little did Blanche know that roads had a special significance to me.

I said, "Well, whatever I am, remember you are my wife; we were married an hour since, in the presence of all these witnesses." The words pained me to say because I hated the disgusting idea of her as my bride. There was only one bride I wanted and she was sitting in the audience. I saw tears well up in her eyes as I left the stage. I had gone too far but hopefully my friend's play would calm her spirits.

"Now Dent!" I said. "It is your turn," and I left. I had overstepped my boundaries and had hurt her but why didn't she beg me to stop? If she felt the way I feel, she surely would have asked us to stop. She did not though and I was still uncertain if her feelings were as strong as mine.

For the rest of the evening I pranced around with Blanche at my side. Whenever I looked at Jane I saw nothing but conflict in her telling eyes. Perhaps she did love me as I loved her but then why did she not beg me to stop our charade. I went to bed that night and thought only of her. She had feelings for me, that was one thing I knew for certain but I could not ascertain how strong they were. I thought about how I could possibly find out what she was feeling. My acting skills failed me on that evening but perhaps if I took them one step further I could really find out. I would need to obtain her confidence without being myself. As I lay in bed, I created my plan for the following day. A gypsy was the only person I could think of that can easily obtain confidences.


	10. Chapter 10

I waited patiently in my costume of long scarves, shawls and cloaks, for my Jane to enter the library. I smiled when I thought about what I might be able to get her to confess. Deceptiveness is not a great way to gain trust but since Jane is so private, I feel it is the only way she may admit she has strong feelings for me. Her small frame was alit by the fire light and I pulled my scarf closer to my face so she would not recognize my grizzly features. Her deep eyes looked directly at my own.

I said in my crone's voice, "Well, and you want your fortune told?"

"I don't care about it, mother; you may please yourself: but I ought to warn you, I have no faith." I could hardly believe her frankness but I knew Jane was always the skeptic.

I said, "It's like your impudence to say so: I expected it of you; I heard it in your step as you crossed the threshold."

"Did you? You've a quick ear."

"I have; and a quick eye and a quick brain."

"You need them all in your trade." I wanted to laugh at her comment for she knew as well as I that fortune tellers were nothing but conartists.

I said, "I do; especially when I've customers like you to deal with. Why don't you tremble?" I longed to wrap my arms around her and stop her from trembling.

Jane replied, "I'm not cold."

"Why don't you turn pale?"

"I am not sick."

"Why don't you consult my art?"

"I'm not silly."

I laughed for I knew how sensible she was. Still she trembled which showed me there were things she wanted to confess. I said, "You are cold; you are sick; and you are silly."

"Prove it," she said.

I thought about what I wanted to say. I thought about her coldness and how I wanted her to know she would never be cold again. I said, "I will, in few words. You are cold, because you are alone: no contact strikes the fire from you that is in you. You are sick; because the best of feelings, the highest and the sweetest given to man, keeps far away from you. You are silly, because, suffer as you may, you will not beckon it to approach, nor will you stir one step to meet it where it waits you."

I smoked my pipe as Jane said, "You might say all that to almost any one who you knew lived as a solitary dependent in a great house."

"I might say it to almost any one: but would it be true of almost any one?"

"In my circumstances." I could tell it would be difficult to get Jane to trust me.

I said, Yes; just so, in YOUR circumstances: but find me another precisely placed as you are."

"It would be easy to find you thousands."

"You could scarcely find me one. If you knew it, you are peculiarly situated: very near happiness; yes, within reach of it. The materials are all prepared; there only wants a movement to combine them. Chance laid them somewhat apart; let them be once approached and bliss results." I wanted to tell her happiness could be with me but knew it would be too soon for such confessions.

She said, "I don't understand enigmas. I never could guess a riddle in my life."

"If you wish me to speak more plainly, show me your palm."

"And I must cross it with silver, I suppose?"

"To be sure."

As she gave me her shilling I felt her small fingers in my large hand and I longed to grasp them and feel them close to me. I let go when it seemed like I had held them too long.

I said, "It is too fine. I can make nothing of such a hand as that; almost without lines: besides, what is in a palm? Destiny is not written there."

"I believe you."

"No, it is in the face: on the forehead, about the eyes, in the lines of the mouth. Kneel, and lift up your head."

"Ah! now you are coming to reality," She kneeled in front of me and felt her small body close to mine again.

She said, "I shall begin to put some faith in you presently."

"I wonder with what feelings you came to me to-night. I wonder what thoughts are busy in your heart during all the hours you sit in yonder room with the fine people flitting before you like shapes in a magic-lantern: just as little sympathetic communion passing between you and them as if they were really mere shadows of human forms, and not the actual substance."

I wondered if her feelings for me were the same as what I felt for her but I dared not say such things.

She said, "I feel tired often, sleepy sometimes, but seldom sad."

"Then you have some secret hope to buoy you up and please you with whispers of the future?"

"Not I. The utmost I hope is, to save money enough out of my earnings to set up a school some day in a little house rented by myself." Her answer was not what I wanted to hear but I knew my Jane was always the practical kind.

I said, "A mean nutriment for the spirit to exist on: and sitting in that window-seat (you see I know your habits )--"

"You have learned them from the servants."

No I hadn't learned from the servants; I had learned from Jane's own mouth but I had to keep the game up.

I said, "Ah! you think yourself sharp. Well, perhaps I have: to speak truth, I have an acquaintance with one of them, Mrs. Poole--"

I could see the fear in her face at the name of Mrs. Poole. I wanted to hold her and tell her I would protect from all harm.

I said, "Don't be alarmed. She's a safe hand is Mrs. Poole: close and quiet; any one may repose confidence in her. But, as I was saying: sitting in that window-seat, do you think of nothing but your future school? Have you no present interest in any of the company who occupy the sofas and chairs before you? Is there not one face you study? one figure whose movements you follow with at least curiosity?"

"I like to observe all the faces and all the figures."

"But do you never single one from the rest--or it may be, two?" I secretly hoped she would say she singled me out.

She said, "I do frequently; when the gestures or looks of a pair seem telling a tale: it amuses me to watch them."

"What tale do you like best to hear?"

"Oh, I have not much choice! They generally run on the same theme-- courtship; and promise to end in the same catastrophe--marriage."

"And do you like that monotonous theme?"

"Positively, I don't care about it: it is nothing to me." Again her answer vexed me for I wanted her to be mine but if she did not feel the same as me, there was nothing I could do. Still if she had any feelings for me she would not like the idea of me being married to Miss Ingram so perhaps that was at the heart of her answer.

I said, "Nothing to you? When a lady, young and full of life and health, charming with beauty and endowed with the gifts of rank and fortune, sits and smiles in the eyes of a gentleman you--"

"I what?"

"You know--and perhaps think well of." Jane had said too much for I had drawn her secret out. She cared for as I cared for her. Now I had to see if she would admit she loved me.

She said, "I don't know the gentlemen here. I have scarcely interchanged a syllable with one of them; and as to thinking well of them, I consider some respectable, and stately, and middle-aged, and others young, dashing, handsome, and lively: but certainly they are all at liberty to be the recipients of whose smiles they please, without my feeling disposed to consider the transaction of any moment to me."

"You don't know the gentlemen here? You have not exchanged a syllable with one of them? Will you say that of the master of the house!"

"He is not at home."

"A profound remark! A most ingenious quibble! He went to Millcote this morning, and will be back here to-night or to-morrow: does that circumstance exclude him from the list of your acquaintance-- blot him, as it were, out of existence?"

"No; but I can scarcely see what Mr. Rochester has to do with the theme you had introduced."

"I was talking of ladies smiling in the eyes of gentlemen; and of late so many smiles have been shed into Mr. Rochester's eyes that they overflow like two cups filled above the brim: have you never remarked that?"

"Mr. Rochester has a right to enjoy the society of his guests."

"No question about his right: but have you never observed that, of all the tales told here about matrimony, Mr. Rochester has been favoured with the most lively and the most continuous?"

"The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator." Her jealousy had again betrayed her true feelings and found myself emotionally excited by her response.

I said, "Eagerness of a listener! Yes; Mr. Rochester has sat by the hour, his ear inclined to the fascinating lips that took such delight in their task of communicating; and Mr. Rochester was so willing to receive and looked so grateful for the pastime given him; you have noticed this?"

"Grateful! I cannot remember detecting gratitude in his face."

"Detecting! You have analysed, then. And what did you detect, if not gratitude?" She had found me handsome even though she did not admit to it for why else would she look at me. Only eyes of love could see me in this way.

I said, "You have seen love: have you not?--and, looking forward, you have seen him married, and beheld his bride happy?"

"Humph! Not exactly. Your witch's skill is rather at fault sometimes."

I exclaimed, "What the devil have you seen, then?" I cursed to myself in my head for I knew "devil" was an expression I used to frequently.

She said, "Never mind: I came here to inquire, not to confess. Is it known that Mr. Rochester is to be married?"

"Yes; and to the beautiful Miss Ingram."

"Shortly?"

I thought about the things I had just told Miss Ingram about my lack of fortune. It was all to clear to me that Blanche only wanted me for my money and I enjoyed teasing her and forcing her to admit her falseities.

I said, "Appearances would warrant that conclusion: and, no doubt (though, with an audacity that wants chastising out of you, you seem to question it), they will be a superlatively happy pair. He must love such a handsome, noble, witty, accomplished lady; and probably she loves him, or, if not his person, at least his purse. I know she considers the Rochester estate eligible to the last degree; though (God pardon me!) I told her something on that point about an hour ago which made her look wondrous grave: the corners of her mouth fell half an inch. I would advise her blackaviced suitor to look out: if another comes, with a longer or clearer rent-roll,--he's dished--"

She interrupted me and said, "But, mother, I did not come to hear Mr. Rochester's fortune: I came to hear my own; and you have told me nothing of it."

"Your fortune is yet doubtful: when I examined your face, one trait contradicted another. Chance has meted you a measure of happiness: that I know. I knew it before I came here this evening. She has laid it carefully on one side for you. I saw her do it. It depends on yourself to stretch out your hand, and take it up: but whether you will do so, is the problem I study. Kneel again on the rug."

"Don't keep me long; the fire scorches me."

She knelt again next to me and I looked deep into her eyes. They almost exploded with passion and I said, "The flame flickers in the eye; the eye shines like dew; it looks soft and full of feeling; it smiles at my jargon: it is susceptible; impression follows impression through its clear sphere; where it ceases to smile, it is sad; an unconscious lassitude weighs on the lid: that signifies melancholy resulting from loneliness. It turns from me; it will not suffer further scrutiny; it seems to deny, by a mocking glance, the truth of the discoveries I have already made,--to disown the charge both of sensibility and chagrin: its pride and reserve only confirm me in my opinion. The eye is favourable.

"As to the mouth, it delights at times in laughter; it is disposed to impart all that the brain conceives; though I daresay it would be silent on much the heart experiences. Mobile and flexible, it was never intended to be compressed in the eternal silence of solitude: it is a mouth which should speak much and smile often, and have human affection for its interlocutor. That feature too is propitious.

"I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in the brow; and that brow professes to say,--'I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.' The forehead declares, 'Reason sits firm and holds the reins, and she will not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms. The passions may rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote in every decision. Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience.'

"Well said, forehead; your declaration shall be respected. I have formed my plans--right plans I deem them--and in them I have attended to the claims of conscience, the counsels of reason. I know how soon youth would fade and bloom perish, if, in the cup of bliss offered, but one dreg of shame, or one flavour of remorse were detected; and I do not want sacrifice, sorrow, dissolution--such is not my taste. I wish to foster, not to blight--to earn gratitude, not to wring tears of blood--no, nor of brine: my harvest must be in smiles, in endearments, in sweet-- That will do. I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium. I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum; but I dare not. So far I have governed myself thoroughly. I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act; but further might try me beyond my strength. Rise, Miss Eyre: leave me; the play is played out'."

With these words I knew I had given myself away. She had to know how I felt about her. I began to take off my costume. When I took off the scarf I knew she knew who I was for my Jane was too smart to be played a fool.

I said, "Well, Jane, do you know me?"

"Only take off the red cloak, sir, and then--"

"But the string is in a knot--help me." I hoped she would come near me so that I could take her in my arms and press my lips lovingly against hers.

She said, "Break it, sir."

"There, then--'Off, ye lendings!'" I broke the string and once again became myself..

She said, "Now, sir, what a strange idea!"

"But well carried out, eh? Don't you think so?"

"With the ladies you must have managed well."

"But not with you?"

"You did not act the character of a gipsy with me."

"What character did I act? My own?"

"No; some unaccountable one. In short, I believe you have been trying to draw me out--or in; you have been talking nonsense to make me talk nonsense. It is scarcely fair, sir."

"Do you forgive me, Jane?"

"I cannot tell till I have thought it all over. If, on reflection, I find I have fallen into no great absurdity, I shall try to forgive you; but it was not right."

"Oh, you have been very correct--very careful, very sensible."

Her face became deep in thought and I could tell she was thinking about the resident of the tower but I did not want such dark things for her. I wanted to only shower her with love. I said, "Well, what are you musing about? What does that grave smile signify?"

"Wonder and self-congratulation, sir. I have your permission to retire now, I suppose?"

"No; stay a moment; and tell me what the people in the drawing-room yonder are doing."

"Discussing the gipsy, I daresay."

"Sit down!--Let me hear what they said about me."

"I had better not stay long, sir; it must be near eleven o'clock. Oh, are you aware, Mr. Rochester, that a stranger has arrived here since you left this morning?"

"A stranger!--no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?" I had no idea who would possibly be calling on me. The few friends I had were at Thornfield presently.

She said, "No; he said he had known you long, and that he could take the liberty of installing himself here till you returned."

"The devil he did! Did he give his name?" It was Mason but I had to let Jane confirm this for me.

She said "His name is Mason, sir; and he comes from the West Indies; from Spanish Town, in Jamaica, I think."

Hearing her speak about the West Indies made me grave and cold. I did not want her to be connected with any of that evil yet here she was telling me of my acquaintance from that horrid place.

I said, "Mason!--the West Indies! Mason!--the West Indies!" I repeat this several times for the West Indies only reminded me of that witch in the attic.

She inquired with such sensitivity, "Do you feel ill, sir?"

"Jane, I've got a blow; I've got a blow, Jane!" I felt my knees growing weak.

She said, "Oh, lean on me, sir."

"Jane, you offered me your shoulder once before; let me have it now."

"Yes, sir, yes; and my arm."

I leaned on her and sat in her chair. She sat near me and her unearthly presence made me slightly calmer. I took her hand in my own. The small fingers were so comforting to me. I said, "I wish I were in a quiet island with only you; and trouble, and danger, and hideous recollections removed from me." With these words she had to know I was hers alone.

She said, "Can I help you, sir?--I'd give my life to serve you."

"Jane, if aid is wanted, I'll seek it at your hands; I promise you that."

"Thank you, sir. Tell me what to do,--I'll try, at least, to do it."

"Fetch me now, Jane, a glass of wine from the dining-room: they will be at supper there; and tell me if Mason is with them, and what he is doing."

When she left I cursed about my wretched life. All of the pain of my past invaded my soul once again and I hated myself. It was wrong of me to lie to her but there was nothing I could do for I doubted she could love me if she knew the awful truth. I stared at the fire as she came back into the room with some wine. Mr. Rochester's extreme pallor had disappeared, and he looked once more firm and stern. He took the glass from my hand.

She handed my the goblet and I toasted to her. I said, "Here is to your health, ministrant spirit! What are they doing, Jane?"

"Laughing and talking, sir."

"They don't look grave and mysterious, as if they had heard something strange?" Mason had obviously told them nothing.

I said, "Not at all: they are full of jests and gaiety."

"And Mason?"

"He was laughing too."

"If all these people came in a body and spat at me, what would you do, Jane?"

"Turn them out of the room, sir, if I could."

"But if I were to go to them, and they only looked at me coldly, and whispered sneeringly amongst each other, and then dropped off and left me one by one, what then? Would you go with them?"

"I rather think not, sir: I should have more pleasure in staying with you."

"To comfort me?"

"Yes, sir, to comfort you, as well as I could." She was my only comfort in this God forsaken life or mine. I loved her even more for saying such things.

I said, "And if they laid you under a ban for adhering to me?"

"I, probably, should know nothing about their ban; and if I did, I should care nothing about it."

"Then, you could dare censure for my sake?"

"I could dare it for the sake of any friend who deserved my adherence; as you, I am sure, do." She loved me in her way, in her quiet, controlled way but she was still too afraid to confess it and I longed to hear it from her very lips.

I said, "Go back now into the room; step quietly up to Mason, and whisper in his ear that Mr. Rochester is come and wishes to see him: show him in here and then leave me."

"Yes, sir."

I went to my room knowing it was my only sanctuary that evening aside from Jane. I thought about the situation and knew there was little I could do to improve. I had to be near Jane but she would certainly leave me if she knew the truth. Mrs. Fairfax brought Mason to my room. I was polite and too him to his room As we passed Jane's room I said, "This way, Mason; this is your room." This way she would not suspect anything.

Before I left his room, Mason asked if he could see his sister. I did not want to see the beast that evening so I said to him, "Not tonight. She was wild today and I fear for her reaction should she see you." He protested but I reiterated my concerns and left him in his room. As I left him I felt the night would be a dreadful one.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I slept hard that night which was surprising with Mason in the house. I hated him almost as much as I hated that dreadful creature who lived in my house. I feared him for I knew the madness that consumed her was slowly invading his calm mind as well.

Suddenly I was awoken from sleep with cries of, "Help! help! help!"

I immediately rose from my bed and tried to find my robe. I feared the worst had happened and knew I had little time to lose before she would strike again...

"Will no one come?" he cried again. After finding my robe, I left my bedroom and hurried to the wretched wing where only trouble seems to happen. As I ran there I heard Mason scream again, "Rochester! Rochester! For God's sake, come!"

By the time I got to Bertha's room I was out of breath. I found Mason covered in blood on the floor. He hadn't listened to me but there was no time for that now.

"Mason," I said. "Where is she?"

"The nurse has her," he replied. "Edward what is wrong with her?"

"Mason you know damn well what is wrong with you. Come I must get you into bed." I bent down and as I lifted him he shuddered and I knew he was in great pain. "Richard," I said as I put him on the bed. "You must stay awake while I get someone to nurse you. Can you do that? You need not be afraid as Grace has Bertha right now so you are safe. Do you understand Mason?"

He nodded and I left the room.

I made my way back downstairs knowing there was only one person who would help me. As I went to Jane's room I heard nose coming from the drawing room. All of my guests were awake. I composed myself and thought of what I could tell them so they would return to their chambers. As I entered the room Colonel Dent said, "Where the devil is Rochester? I cannot find him in his bed."

"Here! Here! Be composed, all of you: I'm coming." I walked into the room and felt Jane's eyes upon me. I sensed fear in her and longed to comfort her but knew there were other things that had to happen.

Miss Ingrham immediately came to me.

"What awful event has taken place?" said she. "Speak! Let us know the worst at once!"

"But don't pull me down or strangle me," I replied All of the women except Jane gathered around me. I hated their interference and their indignation.

I said "All's right!--all's right! It's a mere rehearsal of Much Ado about Nothing. Ladies, keep off, or I shall wax dangerous. A servant has had the nightmare; that is all. She's an excitable, nervous person: she construed her dream into an apparition, or something of that sort, no doubt; and has taken a fit with fright. Now, then, I must see you all back into your rooms; for, till the house is settled, she cannot be looked after. Gentlemen, have the goodness to set the ladies the example. Miss Ingram, I am sure you will not fail in evincing superiority to idle terrors. Amy and Louisa, return to your nests like a pair of doves, as you are. Mesdames you will take cold to a dead certainty, if you stay in this chill gallery any longer."

Before Jane left the room with the others I caught her eye. There seemed to be genuine concern in it and I lightly squeezed her arm as she left the room so she would know I needed her. I waited until their shadows had disappeared before I went to Jane's room. If she only knew how I wanted her and how desperate I was to be alone in that room with her all to myself. My rational mind took over and I told myself this could not happen. I knocked on her door.

"Am I wanted?" she said.

"Are you up?"

"Yes, sir."

"And dressed?"

"Yes."

"Come out, then, quietly."

She opened the door and appeared fully clothed before me. She had on tiny little slippers and a shawl around her.

"I want you," I said, "come this way: take your time, and make no noise."

As we walked it occurred to me she needed some things for her to adequately nurse Mason. I said "Have you a sponge in your room?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you any salts--volatile salts? Yes."

"Go back and fetch both."

She left me for a minute alone again and I began to think about what I was about to show my beloved. The horrors her eyes would see would most likely be unbearable for once so innocent and good. I had to protect her from the horrors ahead of her and I said as she returned to me, "You don't turn sick at the sight of blood?"

"I think I shall not: I have never been tried yet."

"Just give me your hand "it will not do to risk a fainting fit."

Her little hand felt so right in my own. It struck me that her fingers were much warmer than my won. "Warm and steady," I said as I opened the door.

I knew her little brain was taking in everything in the room from the starkness of the tapestry to the concealed door. As we walked to other door I heard Bertha snarling again. I held her hand tighter. I decided to make sure everything was perfectly clear. I put down my candle and said, "Wait a minute," and went inside.

Grace met me and said Berthas was in a frenzied state. I asked if she had tried to attack Mason again and Grace said she had her perfectly contained so nothing could happen. I told Grace that Miss Eyre would be looking after Mason while I fetched the doctor.

As I left her, I said, "And Grace, make sure Bertha does not enter that room." She nodded and went back to Jane.

"Here, Jane!" I said. We went to where Mason was and I held her hand once again praying she would be well with what was before her. She looked at Mason as we entered. I knew she recognized him at once.

As I made my way to the bed, I said, "Hold the candle," which she did. I put water in the basin and showed her how to sponge the ailing man.

"Is there immediate danger?" murmured Mr. Mason.

"Pooh! No--a mere scratch. Don't be so overcome, man: bear up! I'll fetch a surgeon for you now, myself: you'll be able to be removed by morning, I hope. Jane,".

"Sir?" I sensed fear in her little voice.

"I shall have to leave you in this room with this gentleman, for an hour, or perhaps two hours: you will sponge the blood as I do when it returns: if he feels faint, you will put the glass of water on that stand to his lips, and your salts to his nose. You will not speak to him on any pretext--and--Richard, it will be at the peril of your life if you speak to her: open your lips--agitate yourself- -and I'll not answer for the consequences."

I gathered another sponge and some smelling salts and gave them to Jane. Her tiny hand grasped the sponge and she began to nurse Mason.

"Remember!--No conversation," I said as I left the room.

I changed into some riding clothes and found Messeur. I mounted him and road into the village to fetch Carter for I knew he would look after Mason with great care. As I rode towards his home, I thought of Jane. She was so brave and obeyed everything I asked her to do. I hated our relationship as master and servant for she was more important to me than any of my other servants. She was my love and slowly becoming my whole life.

I arrived at Carter's house and rang for him. I told his man servant there had been an accident at Thornfield and I needed Carter's help. The servant went to fetch Carter who swiftly came to me and agreed to attend to the man at Thornfield. He asked no questions as we rode back to the hall. He had never been to the wing and I felt he was a bit uneasy but I told him one of my guests was in desperate need of his attention and he seemed to dismiss his anxieties.

I went in the room and found Jane carefully sponging Mason.

I said, "Now, Carter, be on the alert. I give you but half-an-hour for dressing the wound, fastening the bandages, getting the patient downstairs and all."

"But is he fit to move, sir?" Jane asked.

"No doubt of it; it is nothing serious; he is nervous, his spirits must be kept up. Come, set to work."

I drew the curtain that darkened the room and asked Mason, "Now, my good fellow, how are you?"

"She's done for me, I fear," was the faint reply.

"Not a whit!--courage! This day fortnight you'll hardly be a pin the worse of it: you've lost a little blood; that's all Carter, assure him there's no danger."

"I can do that conscientiously, only I wish I could have got here sooner: he would not have bled so much--but how is this? The flesh on the shoulder is torn as well as cut. This wound was not done with a knife: there have been teeth here!"

"She bit me," he murmured. "She worried me like a tigress, when Rochester got the knife from her."

"You should not have yielded: you should have grappled with her at once," said I. If he has listened to me things would have been certainly better for all of us.

"But under such circumstances, what could one do?" returned Mason. "Oh, it was frightful!" he added, shuddering. "And I did not expect it: she looked so quiet at first."

"I warned you," I said feeling even more vexed, "I said--be on your guard when you go near her. Besides, you might have waited till to- morrow, and had me with you: it was mere folly to attempt the interview to-night, and alone."

"I thought I could have done some good."

"You thought! You thought! Yes, it makes me impatient to hear you: but, however, you have suffered, and are likely to suffer enough for not taking my advice; so I'll say no more. Carter--hurry!--hurry! The sun will soon rise, and I must have him off." I was glad Jane and Carter were there for I am not sure my kindness would have been so generous had they not been.

"Directly, sir;" Carter said, "The shoulder is just bandaged. I must look to this other wound in the arm: she has had her teeth here too, I think." Carter studied the wound.

"She sucked the blood: she said she'd drain my heart," said Mason.

I wanted to silence him by any means and said, "Come, be silent, Richard, and never mind her gibberish: don't repeat it."

"I wish I could forget it," was the answer.

"You will when you are out of the country: when you get back to Spanish Town, you may think of her as dead and buried--or rather, you need not think of her at all."

"Impossible to forget this night!" I knew he was right for although paradise may distract the senses, reality always seems to reveal its ugly head and the pretty colours can do nothing to make it more beautiful.

I said, "It is not impossible: have some energy, man. You thought you were as dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and talking now. There!--Carter has done with you or nearly so; I'll make you decent in a trice. Jane, take this key: go down into my bedroom, and walk straight forward into my dressing-room: open the top drawer of the wardrobe and take out a clean shirt and neck- handkerchief: bring them here; and be nimble."

Jane left and I begged Mason to say no more and save his energy.

"It is not worth the struggle," said I knew for I knew anything out of his mouth could forever undo me.

Jane came back to the room quickly and I instructed her, "Now, go to the other side of the bed while I order his toilet; but don't leave the room: you may be wanted again."

She began to leave the room and as she left I said, "Was anybody stirring below when you went down, Jane?"

"No, sir; all was very still." I was glad to hear the guests were asleep.

I returned to Mason and said, "We shall get you off cannily, Dick: and it will be better, both for your sake, and for that of the poor creature in yonder. I have striven long to avoid exposure, and I should not like it to come at last. Here, Carter, help him on with his waist-coat. Where did you leave your furred cloak? You can't travel a mile without that, I know, in this damned cold climate. In your room?--Jane, run down to Mr. Mason's room,--the one next mine,--and fetch a cloak you will see there."

She left again and I watched her little frame dash away. I knew the invalid who Carter was attending to have the knowledge to make that tiny frame run away from forever but I would not have that. I was so lost in these dreary thoughts that I almost did not notice when she came back

When she came to the bed I said, "Now, I've another errand for you. You must away to my room again. What a mercy you are shod with velvet, Jane!--a clod-hopping messenger would never do at this juncture. You must open the middle drawer of my toilet-table and take out a little phial and a little glass you will find there,--quick!"

The thought of her in my room alone almost brought unnecessary feelings to me again. Richard moaned and I was immediately taken to my God forsaken reality. She came back in the room with the vile and I turned to Carter and said, "That's well! Now, doctor, I shall take the liberty of administering a dose myself, on my own responsibility. I got this cordial at Rome, of an Italian charlatan--a fellow you would have kicked, Carter. It is not a thing to be used indiscriminately, but it is good upon occasion: as now, for instance. Jane, a little water."

She filled the glass with water and I said, "That will do;--now wet the lip of the phial."

I put a few drops of liquid into it and gave it to Mason." Drink, Richard: it will give you the heart you lack, for an hour or so."

"But will it hurt me?--is it inflammatory?"

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

After a few moments I leaned towards him and too his arm.

I said, "Now I am sure you can get on your feet, try."

The patient rose.

"Carter, take him under the other shoulder. Be of good cheer, Richard; step out--that's it!"

"I do feel better," remarked Mr. Mason.

"I am sure you do. Now, Jane, trip on before us away to the backstairs; unbolt the side-passage door, and tell the driver of the post-chaise you will see in the yard--or just outside, for I told him not to drive his rattling wheels over the pavement--to be ready; we are coming: and, Jane, if any one is about, come to the foot of the stairs and hem."

We walked threw the dark house as fast as possible. I had to get Mason out before he revealed more than I wanted him to and the sooner he left, the sooner I would be able to comfort my Jane. John had prepared the carriage in the courtyard that Carter was to put Mason in. I helped Mason into the carriage and said to Carter, "Take care of him, and keep him at your house till he is quite well: I shall ride over in a day or two to see how he gets on. Richard, how is it with you?"

"The fresh air revives me, Fairfax."

"Leave the window open on his side, Carter; there is no wind--good- bye, Dick."

"Fairfax--"

"Well what is it?"

"Let her be taken care of; let her be treated as tenderly as may be: let her--" he stopped and burst into tears. Again I wished to silence him but knew I had to show him some sympathy. He knew what I did for Bertha by keeping her with me instead of an asylum.

"I do my best; and have done it, and will do it. Yet would to God there was an end of all this!" and I shut the door. The carriage went on its way.

I sighed and drew in the fresh morning air. The dawn meant the dreadful night was finally coming to and end. I heard Jane's footsteps walking way and said to her, "Come where there is some freshness, for a few moments. That house is a mere dungeon: don't you feel it so?"

"It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir."

If she only knew the black reality the mansion encompassed. I said, "The glamour of inexperience is over your eyes, and you see it through a charmed medium: you cannot discern that the gilding is slime and the silk draperies cobwebs; that the marble is sordid slate, and the polished woods mere refuse chips and scaly bark. Now HERE," I said as I pointed to tree, "all is real, sweet, and pure."

We walked along the garden where new blossoms were beginning to show their spring bloom. Jane seemed at ease with me in a way she had never been before and perhaps she as beginning to show her true colors to me. We past and orchid tree and I pulled a few blossoms. If she were comfortable with me would accept my gesture as one of lover if her feelings would allow it.

I said, "Jane, will you have a flower?"

I bundled some roses that could not even compare to her in beauty as cliché as that seems.

"Thank you, sir," she replied sweetly. It was not the response of the lover but it was tender hearted and simply her.

"Do you like this sunrise, Jane? That sky with its high and light clouds which are sure to melt away as the day waxes warm--this placid and balmy atmosphere?"

"I do, very much."

"You have passed a strange night, Jane." How I wished to I could have protected her from the horrors of it.

"Yes, sir."

"And it has made you look pale--were you afraid when I left you alone with Mason?"

"I was afraid of some one coming out of the inner room." Thank God know one did I thought to myself.

I said, "But I had fastened the door--I had the key in my pocket: I should have been a careless shepherd if I had left a lamb--my pet lamb--so near a wolf's den, unguarded: you were safe."

"Will Grace Poole live here still, sir?"

"Oh yes! Don't trouble your head about her--put the thing out of your thoughts."

"Yet it seems to me your life is hardly secure while she stays." With her response I knew at once she cared for me as more than her master. I felt a glimmer of hope stir in my soul.

I said, "Never fear--I will take care of myself."

"Is the danger you apprehended last night gone by now, sir?"

"I cannot vouch for that till Mason is out of England: nor even then. To live, for me, Jane, is to stand on a crater-crust which may crack and spew fire any day."

"But Mr. Mason seems a man easily led. Your influence, sir, is evidently potent with him: he will never set you at defiance or willfully injure you."

"Oh, no! Mason will not defy me; nor, knowing it, will he hurt me-- but, unintentionally, he might in a moment, by one careless word, deprive me, if not of life, yet for ever of happiness."

"Tell him to be cautious, sir: let him know what you fear, and show him how to avert the danger."

I laughed and carelessly took her hand and brought in the direction of my lips but through down when I realized what I was doing.

I said, "If I could do that, simpleton, where would the danger be? Annihilated in a moment. Ever since I have known Mason, I have only had to say to him 'Do that,' and the thing has been done. But I cannot give him orders in this case: I cannot say 'Beware of harming me, Richard;' for it is imperative that I should keep him ignorant that harm to me is possible. Now you look puzzled; and I will puzzle you further. You are my little friend, are you not?"

"I like to serve you, sir, and to obey you in all that is right."

My hope disappeared again for I knew her good soul could never love one as black as mine. I said, "Precisely: I see you do. I see genuine contentment in your gait and mien, your eye and face, when you are helping me and pleasing me--working for me, and with me, in, as you characteristically say, 'ALL THAT IS RIGHT:' for if I bid you do what you thought wrong, there would be no light-footed running, no neat-handed alacrity, no lively glance and animated complexion. My friend would then turn to me, quiet and pale, and would say, 'No, sir; that is impossible: I cannot do it, because it is wrong;' and would become immutable as a fixed star. Well, you too have power over me, and may injure me: yet I dare not show you where I am vulnerable, lest, faithful and friendly as you are, you should transfix me at once."

"If you have no more to fear from Mr. Mason than you have from me, sir, you are very safe."

How wrong she was and I said, "God grant it may be so! Here, Jane, is an arbour; sit down."

As we approached a shady bench I took a seat upon it but she did not sit beside me. She seemed to be afraid of being near me.

I said, "Sit, the bench is long enough for two. You don't hesitate to take a place at my side, do you? Is that wrong, Jane?"

She sat down as far as she could from me but she was as close to my heart as she had ever been.

I said, "Now, my little friend, while the sun drinks the dew--while all the flowers in this old garden awake and expand, and the birds fetch their young ones' breakfast out of the Thornfield, and the early bees do their first spell of work--I'll put a case to you, which you must endeavor to suppose your own: but first, look at me, and tell me you are at ease, and not fearing that I err in detaining you, or that you err in staying."

"No, sir; I am content."

"Well then, Jane, call to aid your fancy:- suppose you were no longer a girl well reared and disciplined, but a wild boy indulged from childhood upwards; imagine yourself in a remote foreign land; conceive that you there commit a capital error, no matter of what nature or from what motives, but one whose consequences must follow you through life and taint all your existence. Mind, I don't say a CRIME; I am not speaking of shedding of blood or any other guilty act, which might make the perpetrator amenable to the law: my word is ERROR. The results of what you have done become in time to you utterly insupportable; you take measures to obtain relief: unusual measures, but neither unlawful nor culpable. Still you are miserable; for hope has quitted you on the very confines of life: your sun at noon darkens in an eclipse, which you feel will not leave it till the time of setting. Bitter and base associations have become the sole food of your memory: you wander here and there, seeking rest in exile: happiness in pleasure--I mean in heartless, sensual pleasure--such as dulls intellect and blights feeling. Heart-weary and soul-withered, you come home after years of voluntary banishment: you make a new acquaintance--how or where no matter: you find in this stranger much of the good and bright qualities which you have sought for twenty years, and never before encountered; and they are all fresh, healthy, without soil and without taint. Such society revives, regenerates: you feel better days come back--higher wishes, purer feelings; you desire to recommence your life, and to spend what remains to you of days in a way more worthy of an immortal being. To attain this end, are you justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom--a mere conventional impediment which neither your conscience sanctifies nor your judgment approves?"

Her moral fiber was good pure and but she did not respond to my quandary. She seemed conflicted.

I continued, "Is the wandering and sinful, but now rest-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world's opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?"

"Sir, a wanderer's repose or a sinner's reformation should never depend on a fellow-creature. Men and women die; philosophers falter in wisdom, and Christians in goodness: if any one you know has suffered and erred, let him look higher than his equals for strength to amend and solace to heal."

"But the instrument--the instrument! God, who does the work, ordains the instrument. I have myself--I tell it you without parable--been a worldly, dissipated, restless man; and I believe I have found the instrument for my cure in--"

I had tried repentance and to rectify my evil deeds. The morning doves began to sing. Jane seemed so constant and her beliefs that I knew her goodness would overwhelm her passion so I had to understand her feelings for me by some other means.

I said, "Little friend, you have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Ingram: don't you think if I married her she would regenerate me with a vengeance?"

I left her there to ponder for if she felt anything for me she would not let Blanche interfere. I walked down the lane for a bit and returned to her to find her quite pale and upset.

"Jane, Jane, you are quite pale with your vigils: don't you curse me for disturbing your rest?"

"Curse you? No, sir." No she never could do that I thought to myself.

"Shake hands in confirmation of the word. What cold fingers! They were warmer last night when I touched them at the door of the mysterious chamber. Jane, when will you watch with me again?"

"Whenever I can be useful, sir."

"For instance, the night before I am married! I am sure I shall not be able to sleep. Will you promise to sit up with me to bear me company? To you I can talk of my lovely one: for now you have seen her and know her." The thought of that would surely bring out her feelings for me for the only person I wanted to be with on the night before my wedding day as well as the day itself was her.

"Yes, sir."

"She's a rare one, is she not, Jane?"

She said, "Yes, sir." Again, she confessed nothing.

"A strapper--a real strapper, Jane: big, brown, and buxom; with hair just such as the ladies of Carthage must have had. Bless me! There's Dent and Lynn in the stables! Go in by the shrubbery, through that wicket."

We parted ways and she still refused to confess any feelings for me. She was still quiet and unshaken. Her goodness served her during the night but the goodness defeated her passion for me. Still I knew there was only that to conquer before she would confess all to me.


	12. Chapter 12

I spent the morning pacing the garden as I was restless after the events of the night before. My secret could easily have been revealed to the one I treasure most in this world and she would surely hate if she found out. Even though the weather was calm and peaceful, I felt agitated and annoyed because there was no wind to howl with my soul.

When I finally returned to the house I found Miss Ingram in the drawing room. She was of course immaculate and dressed in fine attire.

"Mr Rochester where could you have all morning," she said in her haughty-flirtatious manner that I loathed.

I did not respond but she continued. "We have already breakfasted sir and it seems we will miss a perfectly good morning for riding because you have not been around to lead us."

"I am sorry Miss Ingram but I suppose I will have to make it up to you by sitting with you until dinner time. Now how have you occupied yourself this morning?"

She began to talk about some nonsense regarding the Eshton twins and the gypsy from the day before. Her words were snide and there was little compassion or sincerity when she talked of her supposed 'friends'. She was beginning to go into a malicious discourse about her mother when she said," What can the creeping creature want now?"

I looked up and there was Jane, in the room with me. She was pale and I could tell there was something she feared and I worried she had discovered something that displeased her.

Miss Ingram said "Does that person want you?"

I turned again this time making Jane know I was aware of her presence in the room. I got up and walked towards her and escorted to the school room for I did not want Miss Ingram to hear anything she could gossip about for the next fortnight.

When we got to the room, I shut the door and said, "Well, Jane?"

"If you please, sir, I want leave of absence for a week or two."

I felt my heart burst with tremendous pain. Why was she leaving me? Was she unhappy at Thornfield and with me?

I stuttered, "What to do?--where to go?"

"To see a sick lady who has sent for me."

I knew Jane had not family and no friends so I could not determine just who she was going to.

I asked, "What sick lady?--where does she live?"

"At Gateshead; in -shire."

"-shire? That is a hundred miles off! Who may she be that sends for people to see her that distance?"

"Her name is Reed, sir--Mrs. Reed."

The name was familiar me to me as we had some business regarding one of my tenants a two years ago.

I said, "Reed of Gateshead? There was a Reed of Gateshead, a magistrate."

"It is his widow, sir."

"And what have you to do with her? How do you know her?"

"Mr. Reed was my uncle--my mother's brother."

She was lying I thought to myself and said, "The deuce he was! You never told me that before: you always said you had no relations."

"None that would own me, sir. Mr. Reed is dead, and his wife cast me off."

"Why?"

"Because I was poor, and burdensome, and she disliked me."

My emotions became angrier but not because of Jane possibly leaving me but because this cruel heartless woman did such a thing to a poor child.

I said, "But Reed left children?--you must have cousins? Sir George Lynn was talking of a Reed of Gateshead yesterday, who, he said, was one of the veriest rascals on town; and Ingram was mentioning a Georgiana Reed of the same place, who was much admired for her beauty a season or two ago in London."

"John Reed is dead, too, sir: he ruined himself and half-ruined his family, and is supposed to have committed suicide. The news so shocked his mother that it brought on an apoplectic attack."

I was still bewildered by the fact Jane wished to see someone so selfish.

I said, "And what good can you do her? Nonsense, Jane! I would never think of running a hundred miles to see an old lady who will, perhaps, be dead before you reach her: besides, you say she cast you off."

"Yes, sir, but that is long ago; and when her circumstances were very different: I could not be easy to neglect her wishes now."

"How long will you stay?"

"As short a time as possible, sir."

"Promise me only to stay a week--" I could not bare thought of her being gone any longer.

She said, "I had better not pass my word: I might be obliged to break it."

"At all events you WILL come back: you will not be induced under any pretext to take up a permanent residence with her?"

"Oh, no! I shall certainly return if all be well."

"And who goes with you? You don't travel a hundred miles alone."

"No, sir, she has sent her coachman."

"A person to be trusted?" for I knew I could send Sam if this person could not be trusted at least Jane would be in safety.

"Yes, sir, he has lived ten years in the family."

Her answer was sufficient and I said, "When do you wish to go?"

"Early to-morrow morning, sir." So soon I thought to myself but I composed my words so I would not reveal too much.

"Well, you must have some money; you can't travel without money, and I daresay you have not much: I have given you no salary yet. How much have you in the world, Jane?"

I wanted her to travel in comfort and knew I could help her on her journey. She pulled out her purse.

She said "Five shillings, sir."

I took her purse knowing full it was my intention to see she was provided for.

"Here," I said and gave her fifty pounds.

"I cannot provide change sir," she said.

"I don't want change; you know that. Take your wages." If she only knew all I wanted to give her.

She again refused my proposal and I knew I would be unable to convince her otherwise.

I said, "Right, right! Better not give you all now: you would, perhaps, stay away three months if you had fifty pounds. There are ten; is it not plenty?"

"Yes, sir, but now you owe me five."

"Come back for it, then; I am your banker for forty pounds."

"Mr. Rochester, I may as well mention another matter of business to you while I have the opportunity."

"Matter of business? I am curious to hear it."

"You have as good as informed me, sir, that you are going shortly to be married?" This little elf has brought up the subject dearest to my heart but I knew this was the wrong time to reveal such longings of my heart for she was leaving me the next day.

I said, "Yes; what then?"

"In that case, sir, Adele ought to go to school: I am sure you will perceive the necessity of it."

"To get her out of my bride's way, who might otherwise walk over her rather too emphatically? There's sense in the suggestion; not a doubt of it. Adele, as you say, must go to school; and you, of course, must march straight to--the devil?"

"I hope not, sir; but I must seek another situation somewhere."

"In course!" for I knew what situation would suit her best and where exactly she would be placed. I continued, "And old Madam Reed, or the Misses, her daughters, will be solicited by you to seek a place, I suppose?"

"No, sir; I am not on such terms with my relatives as would justify me in asking favours of them--but I shall advertise."

"You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt! At your peril you advertise! I wish I had only offered you a sovereign instead of ten pounds. Give me back nine pounds, Jane; I've a use for it." She was becoming too enthusiastic about the whole idea for my taste. I reached for her purse but she pulled it away.

"And so have I, sir. I could not spare the money on any account."

Oh that witch, I thought.

I said, "Little niggard! Refusing me a pecuniary request! Give me five pounds, Jane."

"Not five shillings, sir; nor five pence."

"Just let me look at the cash."

"No, sir; you are not to be trusted."

"Jane!"

"Sir?"

"Promise me one thing."

"I'll promise you anything, sir, that I think I am likely to perform."

This was my moment to ensure she would return to me.

I said, "Not to advertise: and to trust this quest of a situation to me. I'll find you one in time."

"I shall be glad so to do, sir, if you, in your turn, will promise that I and Adele shall be both safe out of the house before your bride enters it."

"Very well! very well! I'll pledge my word on it. You go to- morrow, then?"

"Yes, sir; early."

"Shall you come down to the drawing-room after dinner?"

"No, sir, I must prepare for the journey." I was disappointed with this answer but I knew she had much to do since she was going so very far away.

I said, "Then you and I must bid good-bye for a little while?"

"I suppose so, sir."

"And how do people perform that ceremony of parting, Jane? Teach me; I'm not quite up to it."

"They say, Farewell, or any other form they prefer."

"Then say it."

"Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present." The only pleasure I received from these words was because she was speaking to me but I hated their meaning for I knew our separation was upon us.

I said, "What must I say?"

"The same, if you like, sir."

"Farewell, Miss Eyre, for the present," It broke my heart to say these words because there was so much more I wished to say. I said, "Is that all?"

"Yes?"

"It seems stingy, to my notions, and dry, and unfriendly. I should like something else: a little addition to the rite. If one shook hands, for instance; but no--that would not content me either. So you'll do no more than say Farewell, Jane?"

"It is enough, sir: as much good-will may be conveyed in one hearty word as in many."

"Very likely; but it is blank and cool--'Farewell.'"

"How long is he going to stand with his back against that door? I want to commence my packing."

My feelings began to overwhelm me and I was almost overcome by passion but the dinner bell rang and I left her alone in the school room. I felt tears in my eyes for saying goodbye only revealed the extent of my feelings. I loved this woman so deeply than even simple words could convey a power I hardly understood. I washed my hands and face and went to the dining room.

It was tedious to sit with them for the evening and I was not the conversationalist I usually am. Eshton took me to on side wall the ladies played cards.

"What is the matter with you Edward?"

"Eshton I apologize for not being myself this evening but I am feeling unwell."

"I hope it is not serious," he said.

"No, nothing slumber should not be able to heal. Eshton I am going to retire early this evening. Do apologize to the others for me."

"Rochester are completely sure you are well? Shall I summon Carter?"

"I will be fine by morning. If you have nothing else planned may I request an audience with you tomorrow morning?" He nodded and bid me good night.

As I retired to my chamber I walked pass her door. I heard her rustling about preparing her trunks. I stopped myself from turning the handle knowing it was still too early to reveal my passions for I was unsure if she felt the same for me. She had showed me signs but her sudden and relative easy departure conveyed to me that perhaps her feelings had passed. As I climbed into bed I could not longer suppress my grief for her departure and sobbed inconsolably. My Jane, my little bird, was flying away. My pain was not so much because she was leaving because I knew she would return but because her feelings for me were uncertain and I knew not what to do with myself.


	13. Chapter 13

I watched as Jane left Thornfield and felt a slight ache in my heart. I knew our parting was only temporary but what was Thornfield to me but a prison again with her away. I prayed those relations of hers would treat her with kindness knowing full well that was impossible

My guests were becoming more tedious and I began to tire of Blanche and Lady Ingram who was constantly referring to my impending nuptials. My mood was completely inconsolable, and as much as my guests tried to amuse me, I put down every one of their efforts. My displeasure was apparent to all including my friend Eshton who pulled me aside.

"Rochester, come man, join for a walk in your garden," he said and I followed him outside. The weather was overcast and dreary which fit my mood entirely. As we walked my friend turned to me and said, "What is the matter with you today Rochester? I know you are prone to moodiness but this is a new low even for you. Come man tell me what bothering you so that we may resolve it."

I sighed knowing my heart was heavy and said, "Eshton I fear there is nothing you or anyone else can do. If you must find entertainment, find it amongst each other for I will not fulfil that role today. Now leave me and return to others."

He did not leave me and continued to question me. He said, "You were perfectly amiable last evening when Miss Eyre was here."

As soon as he sad her name, I began to think of the angelic creature that he was referring to. He could see the change in my countenance and I knew he knew this secret of my heart.

"Ah so it is Miss Eyre's departure that grieves you Edward. Well do not grieve for long my friend as she will return as soon as she wills it possible for I noticed something in her."

What was Eshton referring to? Could my Jane feel for me as I did for her?

"Why Eshton," I said. "What do you know? Has Jane, I mean Miss Eyre, admitted anything to you?"

He chuckled as he knew I was completely in his power at the moment.

"When you have studied science and the mind as long as I have Edward, you learn to see things in people that perhaps you should not. I saw in Miss Eyre a regard for you the moment I came to Thornfield. Her expression, which is normally subdued, was full of light when she came into the drawing room during our first evening at your home. Yes your attentions were with Miss Ingram but Miss Eyre observed you with patience and longing. I did not want to encourage either of you until I knew your feelings but you have sought her out on many occasions and seeing you now as you are, so vexed and sombre, I felt I should reveal what I know."

"But what do you know Eshton?" I asked with fury entering my veins.

"Edward she loves you with her whole innocent heart. Her eyes express that vividly and surely you could ascertain this when you posed as a fortune teller. Why Edward is that a smile I detect?'

I could not help but smile at Eshton's confession. Yes, they were only based on his observations and I would not fully know if my Jane loved me until she came back to me, but he gave me a glimmer of hope that I had not felt in years.

"Oh Eshton let's return to the house and began the dinner proceedings for I long to fall into a slumber tonight and find my beloved in my dreams."

Not even Blanche's highness bothered me that evening. When she made some unfortunate comment about matrimony, I told her, "Well Miss Ingram you surely will not find that sort of thing at Thornfield at this present moment. Perhaps you had better vacate the premises at the end of the week." She was startled by my abrupt demand and left the dinner table immediately. Her mother made a disparaging remark which I ignored and left the room so I could finally enjoy my guests. It was agreed they would all leave at the end of the week.

When they eventually did leave I settled into my business affairs in hopes it would only be a few days before my Jane would return me. But with each morning the sun rose I was given the same news from Mrs Fairfax.

"Mrs Fairfax," I enquired. "Has Miss Eyre written about her return? It has been more than a week and I only gave her a week's absence."

And the good woman always replied, "No sir but I will inform you the moment that particular letter arrives. Now I must return to my duties."

As another week passed and than two more, and I began to feel more like a caged tiger. I paced my library and wandered up and down the halls and corridors of Thornfield. I even took Adele to the stream for a biology lesson but the child grew as tired of the lesson as I grew of her ignorance on the subject. We apparently both needed Jane for these sorts of things and Adele and I would find ourselves playing a game of cards a better amusement for us both.

I even began to read a horrid novel in an effort to distract my mind. It was _Northanger Abbey_ by Jane Austen. Now I am not inferring that Miss Austen was an indifferent writer. Quite the contrary. Her novels brought me pleasure in the past but I found too many similarities between the main character and my Jane. Both were young, innocent and naive, but while my Jane studied life and perused academic volumes, Catherine read novels and let her mind wander. If she had come to Thornfield she would have discovered a ghost in the attic and would have left me in disgust. However Jane does not search in this way and I may at least be secure in keeping that secret for the time being. I know in my heart she would leave me if she found that ghost.

With these heavy thoughts I threw the book into the fire because the idea of Jane leaving me broke my heart. I took a sip of brandy and went to bed for a dreamless sleep.

The next morning the sun was ever so faint. I went to find Mrs Fairfax who looked pleased this morning.

"Sir," she said. "I have received a letter from Miss Eyre. She is returning on tomorrow afternoon's coach."

"Thank you Mrs Fairfax. Please ready the house and the school room for my – Miss Eyre's return. I shall see to my business affairs now." As Mrs Fairfax left my heart sprung with delight. She was returning to me and I felt like a schoolboy once again.

The day seemed to pass so slowly and there was nothing I could do to speed up the course of time. I handled my business affairs poorly as my concentration was ill. I rode my horse but found no delight in the earth's glories. By dinner I felt myself becoming anxious knowing Jane had begun the fretful journey alone. I was solemn again and Sophie and Adele let me be. Even Pilot kept his distance.

Finally it was time to retire for the evening but I knew sleep would most likely be impossible. Still I tried and, as I closed my eyes, I pictured her form coming to me. It was so delicate and fragile and those eyes had my soul once again. Finally I drifted off into a slumber with my beloved on my heart and mind.


	14. Chapter 14

After preparing myself I went down to the breakfast room. As I always I found coffee and my meal awaiting me. Dame Fairfax never made me wait for a meal and was always prompt with my morning letters as I ate at the table.

"Thank you Mrs. Fairfax. Do you know when Miss Eyre's coach arrives?"

"Shortly after two I believe sir. Shall I intrude upon you in your study sir when she arrives?"

"There is no need mame', as I plan to finish my work this morning. Good morning," I said as I left the room.

My paper work seemed monotonous and overly tedious, and I found my thoughts wandering to the reunion that was awaiting me. When I finished looking over a tenancy agreement for the second time, I decided it was time to call it a day. I found my journal, put on my coat and made my way outside hoping the clear day would provide me with some solace until my beloved came to me again.

After walking a short distance I found a secluded part of land that was along the path Jane's carriage would be taking from Millcote. I settled down and let my thoughts take hold of my pen.

_By this evening my Jane will be with me again and I shall find some happiness in this prison I have created. How I long to hold her in my arms and plant kisses all over her fragile face. But I know I must wait for such little luxuries for I have to determine if my Jane loves me as I love her which seems entirely too much to hope for. Still just being near her brings me overwhelming happiness that I thought I would never fine in this horrendous life of mine._

_Yes that life I have created, in this prison, where I know the passion of my heart will forever elude me. If Jane knew my secrets, my sins and my shame she would run from Thornfield forever and I would have nothing left but my pitiful self._

_But even with these dreadful thoughts my heart is as ease for simply being with her brings me such immeasurable happiness. I do not deserve her and if she knew my ways she would leave me but I can bear to keep my shame hidden from her if that is what I must do to be with her. I do desire to share everything with her but surely my secret is such I can keep her at bay and hidden from the disgusting truth. She will have every other part of me and I long to make her mine completely._

I closed my journal and began sketching the surroundings around me but the only think my hand would draw were the eyes that had captured my soul. As I began to stencil in the irises, I saw the familiar figure of my Jane. I withheld my urge to run towards her and take her in my arms. Instead I closed my journal and said, "Hillo! There you are! Come on, if you please."

She smiled in her shy way as I made way to her. I was surprised she had not taken the carriage but I knew my Jane had a spirit that desired to be one with nature and treasured these grounds.

I said, "And this is Jane Eyre? Are you coming from Millcote, and on foot? Yes--just one of your tricks: not to send for a carriage, and come clattering over street and road like a common mortal, but to steal into the vicinage of your home along with twilight, just as if you were a dream or a shade. What the deuce have you done with yourself this last month?"

"I have been with my aunt, sir, who is dead." There was little remorse in her words and I could tell her lonely spirit felt little sympathy in losing such an unworthy relation.

I said, "A true Janian reply! Good angels be my guard! She comes from the other world--from the abode of people who are dead; and tells me so when she meets me alone here in the gloaming! If I dared, I'd touch you, to see if you are substance or shadow, you elf!--but I'd as soon offer to take hold of a blue ignis fatuus light in a marsh. Truant! truant! Absent from me a whole month, and forgetting me quite, I'll be sworn!"

As I spoke her eyes followed every movement of my rambling lips. She enquired of my journey to London which I had nearly forgotten.

I said, "Yes; I suppose you found that out by second-sight."

"Mrs. Fairfax told me in a letter."

"And did she inform you what I went to do?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Everybody knew your errand."

I arranged something for Jane, something that would no doubt reveal my feelings for her and hopefully uncover hers but I did not want to reveal too much too soon. Even as I pictured her in the lovely carriage her heart was not yet mine and I could not let my emotions run away with me.

I said, "You must see the carriage, Jane, and tell me if you don't think it will suit Mrs. Rochester exactly; and whether she won't look like Queen Boadicea, leaning back against those purple cushions. I wish, Jane, I were a trifle better adapted to match with her externally. Tell me now, fairy as you are--can't you give me a charm, or a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?"

Yes I was in no way as handsome as my lovely Jane. Her eyes pierced my soul and I understood every movement her lips made. Her skin was like ivory, so smooth, rare, precious and delicate, and I was desperate to run my fingers through her long hair.

As I lost myself in her beauty, she said, "It would be past the power of magic, sir. A loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsome enough; or rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty."

Her reply affected me and I was unsure of myself again. Perhaps she felt nothing for me and found me as monstrous as I found myself. At that moment I felt my heart shed a tear but I concealed it as I best I could.

I said, "Pass, Janet, go up home, and stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend's threshold."

"Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home--my only home."

My fears dissipated as she finished her sentence and I found myself in complete confidence of her feelings. If I was her home as she said than surely she loved me as I loved her for a woman such as Jane would make no such comment in haste or without thought. She was too guarded, too careful of her words to say something that she did not mean. I found myself almost skipping back to the house but kept hold of my feelings.

As soon as we were there Adele and Mrs. Fairfax greeted us and I made my leave for I knew staying in her presence too long would reveal too much. As I prepared myself for dinner my thoughts were only of Jane. I knew she was tired after such a long journey and I was selfish for wishing to fall deep in conversation with her after dinner but it was all I wanted. I longed to hear from those lips and from that soothing voice that talked in a way only I could understand.

After dinner I asked Mrs. Fairfax to send for Jane and Adele. As the child played I talked mostly at Jane as she was in little mood for conversation due to fatigue. She did not complain but I knew I was asking too much of her to stay for even a few hours.

"Dear Jane, how tired you must be after your long journey. Please leave me for the evening and get some much needed rest. Sophie will take care of Adele and we can continue our discussion tomorrow evening," I said.

She smile and said, "Thank you Mr. Rochester. As much as I would like to sit with you I feel it is time for me to rest this evening. Good night sir and I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night Jane and sweet dreams."

It was too much but I could not control my tongue. She was too tired to even take notice. As Adele played I found a book on the fauna of the Andes to occupy my mind for the rest of the evening. However it did little to distract my thoughts for I knew my Jane loved me as I loved her.


	15. Chapter 15

We spent the next few weeks together and I am completely at my whit's end. I have taken pain-stakingly slow steps to ensue her feelings for me are as I strong as my own but whenever a moment comes when I can possibly reveal my affections, I shy away. I consider myself a confident man but with this sweet girl I am hopeless. Tonight while she was reading a book of love-prose about a lover revealing his feelings I almost interrupted her and told her I felt but when I looked at her eyes which were so engulfed in the text I could not bring myself to do it.

I know she is a tactful young woman and does not want some lavish display of love but that is all I want to give her. I want to take her somewhere secluded, wine and dine her, and tell her my feelings. But I know even this is beneath her for her heart is so pure and her nature so reserved. She wants simplicity which is simply not me as I am a complicated man how is overwhelmed by my strong feelings for this woman. I am lost and confused.

It is midsummer night so I go for a walk in the garden as I try to find a way to share my love. I see a moth with beautiful wings. I think of her and her simple manners but know there is much beauty within her. Like the moth her frame may be plain to the worldly eye but there is more beauty to her than one can even comprehend when one looks further. As I study the moth I take one my Cubans, my one pleasure from the Caribbean and I hear some footsteps. They are soft and shallow, and I know who they belong to.

She trys to scamper away but before she could I called to her, "Jane, come and look at this fellow."

She is hesitant as she approached me and I am fearful she will leave my side if I press too hard. I return my attention to the moth.

"Look at his wings. He reminds me rather of a West Indian insect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover in England; there! he is flown."

As the moth left us she began to walk away. Before too long I said, "Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise."

Her uneasy spirit is apparent and I search for some way to calm her nerves as we walk through the orchard towards the large chestnut tree that was planted by my great-great-great grandfather nearly two centuries ago.

"Jane," I said, "Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not?"

"Yes, sir." Her tone of voice is timid.

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house,--you, who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of Adhesiveness?"

"I am attached to it, indeed."

"And though I don't comprehend how it is, I perceive you have acquired a degree of regard for that foolish little child Adele, too; and even for simple dame Fairfax?" As I said these words I thought about what a happy group we could be at this dreadful place but I still needed to search her feelings.

Before I could run away with my thoughts, she said, "Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both."

"And would be sorry to part with them?"

"Yes." She did have an attachment to Thornfield. Now I needed to confirm if she had an attachment to me.

I said, "Pity! It is always the way of events in this life," he continued presently: "no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired."

"Must I move on, sir?" The tone of her voice is sorrowful. She continues, "Must I leave Thornfield?"

"I believe you must, Jane. I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you must."

"Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes."

"It is come now--I must give it to-night." I know my moment has come and if I was going to get any confirmation of her feelings my chance was now.

"Then you ARE going to be married, sir?"

"Ex-act-ly--pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head."

"Soon, sir?"

I hoped that if she returned my feelings, we would be married within the next moon for I yearned to be united with her completely.

I said, "Very soon, my--that is, Miss Eyre: and you'll remember, Jane, the first time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to put my old bachelor's neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy estate of matrimony--to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she's an extensive armful: but that's not to the point--one can't have too much of such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying--listen to me, Jane! You're not turning your head to look after more moths, are you? That was only a lady-clock, child, 'flying away home.' I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with that discretion I respect in you--with that foresight, prudence, and humility which befit your responsible and dependent position--that in case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adele had better trot forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I'll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I have made it my law of action. Adele must go to school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation."

As I finished speaking about Miss Ingram I saw what looked like the beginning of tears forming in her eyes. She was even more uncomfortable with these suggestions than I ever anticipated and her feelings were certainly great.

"Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose--" She paused but soon continued, "I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to betake myself to:"

"In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom, and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum for you." This would be the final test of her feelings and would hopefully confirm what I sought from her.

"Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give--"

"Oh, no need to apologise! I consider that when a dependent does her duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll like Ireland, I think: they're such warm-hearted people there, they say."

"It is a long way off, sir."

"No matter--a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance."

"Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier--" Something prevented her from accepting the employment.

"From what, Jane?" I asked.

"From England and from Thornfield: and--"

"Well?"

"From YOU, sir."

With these words she began to sob. Her feelings were what I had wanted but I longed to hear it from her tiny lips.

She said, "It is a long way."

"It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the little time that remains to them close to each other. Come! we'll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit there together."

We sat together under the tree. I said, "It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"

Perhaps my question would force her to speak the words I longed for.

I said, "Because, I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,--you'd forget me."

"That I NEVER should, sir: you know--"

I interrupted in an effort to stop from her feeling any more pain for our non-existent separation.

I said, "Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!"

She listened but could not control her strength of feeling. As the tears came down her face she said, "I wish I had never been born, I wish I had never come to Thornfield."

"Because you are sorry to leave it?"

She replied, "I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield:- I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life,--momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what I delight in,--with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death."

"Where do you see the necessity?"

"Where? You, sir, have placed it before me."

"In what shape?"

"In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman,--your bride."

"My bride! What bride? I have no bride!" With this I knew I had taken things too far and had to tell her what I really felt.

Before I could speak, she said, "But you will have."

"Yes;--I will!--I will!"

"Then I must go:- you have said it yourself."

"No: you must stay! I swear it--and the oath shall be kept." I attempted to take her in my arms but she fought me with all her strength and passion of feeling.

"I tell you I must go! Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?--a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!--I have as much soul as you,--and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;--it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal,--as we are!"

With that I knew her true feelings. She saw me as her partner in life, as man and wife. I said, "As we are, so…" I took her in my arms and held her close to me. I kissed her feverently. Hers were soft and tender and took to mine easily. I broke away and said, "So, Jane!"

"Yes, so, sir, and yet not so; for you are a married man--or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you--to one with whom you have no sympathy--whom I do not believe you truly love; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scorn such a union: therefore I am better than you--let me go!" She attempted to push me away but I refused to let her go.

I said, "Where, Jane? To Ireland?"

"Yes--to Ireland. I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now."

"Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation."

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you."

Her passion was almost more than I could handle but I held firm to her and said, "And your will shall decide your destiny. I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions." I kissed her gain but she broke away.

"You play a farce, which I merely laugh at." She appeared stunned by my confession.

I said, "I ask you to pass through life at my side--to be my second self, and best earthly companion."

"For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it."

"Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too."

I let her gain her composure and return to her natural self. Her feelings had overwhelmed both of us. The wind began to pick up and I knew a storm was upon us. Still we had to resolve this manner and she had to consent to my offer.

I said, "Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another."

"I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return."

"But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry."

It seemed she ignored me and I knew convincing her of my feelings would take some work. I said, "Come, Jane--come hither."

"Your bride stands between us." For a split second I thought perhaps she was referring to that beast in the tower but soon rational sense took hold of me and I knew she was referring to Miss Ingram.

I stood and walked towards her. I said, "My bride is here because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?"

She stayed quiet showing little emotion other than disbelief. I said, "Do you doubt me, Jane?"

"Entirely."

"You have no faith in me?"

"Not a whit."

"Am I a liar in your eyes?" Again no response as my Jane was too intelligent for trivial feelings.

I said, "Little sceptic, you SHALL be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not--I could not--marry Miss Ingram. You-- you strange, you almost unearthly thing!--I love as my own flesh. You--poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are--I entreat to accept me as a husband."

"What, me?" She still could not believe me no doubt because of the games I had played too frequently with others. She said, "Me who have not a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?"

"You, Jane, I must have you for my own--entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly."

"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight."

"Why?"

"Because I want to read your countenance--turn!"

"There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer."

I turned so my wretched profile was reflected in the moonlight. I could tell her heart was changing and I was near the answer I had so desperately wanted.

Unable to continue without an answer and with her mischievous ways, I said, "Oh, Jane, you torture me! With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!"

"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion--they cannot torture."

"Gratitude!" Had she still no realised the depth of my feelings and that I loved her more than anything else? I said, "Jane accept me quickly. Say, Edward--give me my name--Edward--I will marry you."

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?"

"I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it."

"Then, sir, I will marry you."

"Edward--my little wife!" for if we were equals she could certainly call me by Christian name.

"Dear Edward!"

"Come to me--come to me entirely now." I took her into my arms and held her close. "Make my happiness--I will make yours."

Her perfect little body fit close to mine and I felt safe despite my sordid past which even now seemed to creep into my thoughts. As I kissed her face gloomy thoughts were ever apparent.

I mumbled, "God pardon me and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her."

"There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere."

"No--that is the best of it," he said. I gently kissed her face again and again, and saw that small smile that was only meant for me fall on her face as I touched her.

I asked her several times, "Are you happy, Jane?" She answered yes and I told my conscious, "It will atone--it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment--I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion--I defy it."

As we continued to embrace a storm quickly cooled the night air. I felt the tension of the air and said, "We must go in. The weather changes. I could have sat with thee till morning, Jane."

"And so could I with you." Her words touched my heart and I knew her feelings were true. I knew those nights of being with her not far away. As we raced to the house hand-in-hand I felt deliriously happy in a way I had never felt. Perhaps all of my suffering was for this pure bliss.

As we made our way inside the house, I said, "Hasten to take off your wet things, and before you go, good-night--good-night, my darling!"

I kissed her repeatedly. A lesser man would have been unable to let go and I longed to take her to my chamber to truly make her mine but I knew these pleasures had to wait for another night. As I finally let her go I saw a figure wander by which was either Dame Fairfax or Leah but I could hardly make out the figure as my thoughts were of my beloved.

As I went to my chamber I passed her door and knocked.

"Are you well my love?" I asked hoping she would open the door so I could see her gentle face.

"Yes, I'm simply settling in for the night. Do go change out of your wet things."

"Yes dear Janet." I went to my chamber, dressed for bed but before settling under the sheets I returned to her room again.

"Are you happy Jane?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied contentedly. I smiled and left her once again but found myself returning to her chamber two more times that night. On my final trip I heard her soft sighs of slumber and let her sleep. As I fell asleep that evening I felt peace in my soul and full love in my heart. Jane Eyre loved me and soon we would enter into a life a marital bliss that neither of us had ever known.


	16. Chapter 16

I rose early the next morning as sleep was virtually impossible for me due to the joy that filled my heart as well as an uneasy dread. Thoughts of my wife invaded my soul that evening and it wasn't the woman I wanted for a wife but the wretched creature who was Mrs Rochester. I woke in the middle of the night thinking it was all a dream and went to Jane's room. After knocking on her door once I soon heard the soft sounds of her slumber and decided I should not disturb her. I returned to my chamber for another few hours of restless slumber before deciding my efforts were in vain.

After putting on one of my best waistcoats I went down to the school room where I found Adele busy preparing for the day's study.

"Good morning Uncle Edward," she said. I went over my ward and hugged her, a gesture I rarely indulged her in as I was unsure of what my boundaries with the child were. She seemed startled but quickly relaxed.

"How are you today Adele? Are you preparing the room for Jane..I mean Miss Eyre?"

"Yes but she seems to be somewhat late today. I don't think she has even breakfasted yet."

"Well I believe she had a late night last night so instead of disturbing her perhaps we should let you off your studies today. Go to the nursery and play. You have worked hard these last few weeks Adele."

The child was delighted with my announcement, hugged me and then sprinted out of the school room. Shortly after I heard my Jane's tiny footsteps

"Where are you going? It is time for lessons," Jane asked Adele

"Mr. Rochester has sent me away to the nursery."

"Where is he?"

"In there," said Adele before scurring away.

As Jane entered the room, her presence too my breath away. Her cheeks were all-a-glow and she looked radiant in a light-blue gown which did her more good than the drab grey gowns I so frequently saw her in.

"Come and bid me good-morning," She came towards me and I took her in my arms before kissing her softly on her mouth. Her body, so delicate and pixiesque, felt like it could wither in my arms but she clung close to me.

"Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty - truly pretty this morning. Is this my pale, little elf? Is this my mustard-seed? This little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek and rosy lips; the satin-smooth hazel hair, and the radiant hazel eyes?"

"It is Jane Eyre, sir," she replied stoutly. At that moment I looked at her eyes again and found they were green, not hazel as I said early but my Jane did not correct me so I felt it irrelevant to address the subject again. There were other things that needed correction.

"Soon to be Jane Rochester. In four weeks, Janet; not a day more. Do you hear that?" As I spoke these words I realised our marriage was imminent and I could not delay it for Jane could find out the truth that I needed to keep from her. I was careful to not let my concerns become apparent on my face and looked at Jane.

"You blushed, and now you are white, Jane: what is that for?"

"Because you gave me a new name--Jane Rochester; and it seems so strange."

"Yes, Mrs. Rochester, young Mrs. Rochester--Fairfax Rochester's girl-bride."

"It can never be, sir; it does not sound likely. Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world. I was not born for a different destiny to the rest of my species: to imagine such a lot befalling me is a fairy tale--a day-dream."

Her words echoed my own fears. Perhaps she suspected my secret but I had to keep her from it and shower her with my love and affection.

I said, "Which I can and will realise. I shall begin to-day. This morning I wrote to my banker in London to send me certain jewels he has in his keeping,--heirlooms for the ladies of Thornfield. In a day or two I hope to pour them into your lap: for every privilege, every attention shall be yours that I would accord a peer's daughter, if about to marry her."

"Oh, sir!--never rain jewels! I don't like to hear them spoken of. Jewels for Jane Eyre sounds unnatural and strange: I would rather not have them."

"I will myself put the diamond chain round your neck, and the circlet on your forehead,--which it will become: for nature, at least, has stamped her patent of nobility on this brow, Jane; and I will clasp the bracelets on these fine wrists, and load these fairy- like fingers with rings."

"No, no, sir! think of other subjects, and speak of other things, and in another strain. Don't address me as if I were a beauty; I am your plain, Quakerish governess."

This fair-flower did recognize her own physical self. I said, "You are a beauty in my eyes, and a beauty just after the desire of my heart,--delicate and aerial."

"Puny and insignificant, you mean. You are dreaming, sir,--or you are sneering. For God's sake don't be ironical!"

"I will make the world acknowledge you a beauty, too. I will attire my Jane in satin and lace, and she shall have roses in her hair; and I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil." I could sense her unease at these suggestions but surely she would see her beauty if she had these fine things given to her in the name of love. She deserved more than any other creature and I longed for her to know her worth to me.

She said, "And then you won't know me, sir; and I shall not be your Jane Eyre any longer, but an ape in a harlequin's jacket--a jay in borrowed plumes. I would as soon see you, Mr. Rochester, tricked out in stage-trappings, as myself clad in a court-lady's robe; and I don't call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly: far too dearly to flatter you. Don't flatter me."

Choosing to ignore her objections I said, "This very day I shall take you in the carriage to Millcote, and you must choose some dresses for yourself. I told you we shall be married in four weeks. The wedding is to take place quietly, in the church down below yonder; and then I shall waft you away at once to town. After a brief stay there, I shall bear my treasure to regions nearer the sun: to French vineyards and Italian plains; and she shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record: she shall taste, too, of the life of cities; and she shall learn to value herself by just comparison with others."

"Shall I travel?--and with you, sir?" Oh I would show her the world and would see it through her eyes I thought to myself.

I said, "You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples: at Florence, Venice, and Vienna: all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden by you: wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph's foot shall step also. Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad; with disgust, hate, and rage as my companions: now I shall revisit it healed and cleansed, with a very angel as my comforter."

She laughed as I finished and said. "I am not an angel, and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me--for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate."

"What do you anticipate of me?"

"For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now,--a very little while; and then you will turn cool; and then you will be capricious; and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to please you: but when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like me again,--LIKE me, I say, not LOVE me. I suppose your love will effervesce in six months, or less. I have observed in books written by men, that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's ardour extends. Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master." Her words hurt me as they seemed so cold so close to the reality of my other marriage.

I said, "Distasteful! and like you again! I think I shall like you again, and yet again: and I will make you confess I do not only LIKE, but LOVE you--with truth, fervour, constancy."

"Yet are you not capricious, sir?"

I had told her of my mistresses so she knew me to be somewhat of a superficial brute but I was determined to convince her to her I would be true. I said, "To women who please me only by their faces, I am the very devil when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts--when they open to me a perspective of flatness, triviality, and perhaps imbecility, coarseness, and ill-temper: but to the clear eye and eloquent tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but does not break--at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent- -I am ever tender and true."

"Had you ever experience of such a character, sir? Did you ever love such an one?"

"I love it now."

"But before me: if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your difficult standard?"

If only she knew how her soul invaded mine in a way I hardly understood myself.

I said, "I never met your likeness. Jane, you please me, and you master me- -you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart; and while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced--conquered; and the influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph I can win. Why do you smile, Jane? What does that inexplicable, that uncanny turn of countenance mean?"

"I was thinking, sir, I was thinking of Hercules and Samson with their charmers--"

"You were, you little elfish--"

"Hush, sir! You don't talk very wisely just now; any more than those gentlemen acted very wisely. However, had they been married, they would no doubt by their severity as husbands have made up for their softness as suitors; and so will you, I fear. I wonder how you will answer me a year hence, should I ask a favour it does not suit your convenience or pleasure to grant."

"Ask me something now, Jane,--the least thing: I desire to be entreated--"

"Indeed I will, sir; I have my petition all ready."

"Speak! But if you look up and smile with that countenance, I shall swear concession before I know to what, and that will make a fool of me."

"Not at all, sir; I ask only this: don't send for the jewels, and don't crown me with roses: you might as well put a border of gold lace round that plain pocket handkerchief you have there."

"I might as well 'gild refined gold.' I know it: you request is granted then--for the time. I will remand the order I despatched to my banker. But you have not yet asked for anything; you have prayed a gift to be withdrawn: try again."

"Well then, sir, have the goodness to gratify my curiosity, which is much piqued on one point."

I feared she would not ask about the night in the tower and how Mason received those injuries. I prayed she would spare me from revealing anything to horrific."What? what?" Curiosity is a dangerous petition: it is well I have not taken a vow to accord every request--"

"But there can be no danger in complying with this, sir."

"Utter it, Jane: but I wish that instead of a mere inquiry into, perhaps, a secret, it was a wish for half my estate."

"Now, King Ahasuerus! What do I want with half your estate? Do you think I am a Jew-usurer, seeking good investment in land? I would much rather have all your confidence. You will not exclude me from your confidence if you admit me to your heart?"

"You are welcome to all my confidence that is worth having, Jane; but for God's sake, don't desire a useless burden! Don't long for poison--don't turn out a downright Eve on my hands!"

"Why not, sir? You have just been telling me how much you liked to be conquered, and how pleasant over-persuasion is to you. Don't you think I had better take advantage of the confession, and begin and coax and entreat--even cry and be sulky if necessary--for the sake of a mere essay of my power?"

"I dare you to any such experiment. Encroach, presume, and the game is up." "Is it, sir? You soon give in. How stern you look now! Your eyebrows have become as thick as my finger, and your forehead resembles what, in some very astonishing poetry, I once saw styled, 'a blue-piled thunderloft.' That will be your married look, sir, I suppose?"

"If that will be YOUR married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing,--out with it?"

"There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a THING than an angel. This is what I have to ask,--Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?" I prayed to God above she would not ask anything I did not wish to tell her and my secret could be preserved and he she was asking about that silly Blanche Ingram.

I said, "Is that all? Thank God it is no worse! I think I may confess, even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane--and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer."

"Of course I did. But to the point if you please, sir--Miss Ingram?"

"Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherance of that end."

"Excellent! Now you are small--not one whit bigger than the end of my little finger. It was a burning shame and a scandalous disgrace to act in that way. Did you think nothing of Miss Ingram's feelings, sir?"

"Her feelings are concentrated in one--pride; and that needs humbling. Were you jealous, Jane?" I longed to find out if my experiment which I so expertly carried out would have that result.

She said, "Never mind, Mr. Rochester: it is in no way interesting to you to know that. Answer me truly once more. Do you think Miss Ingram will not suffer from your dishonest coquetry? Won't she feel forsaken and deserted?"

"Impossible!--when I told you how she, on the contrary, deserted me: the idea of my insolvency cooled, or rather extinguished, her flame in a moment."

I was struck by Jane's concern for prideful Blanche but than my Jane had such a tender soul.

She said, "You have a curious, designing mind, Mr. Rochester. I am afraid your principles on some points are eccentric."

"My principles were never trained, Jane: they may have grown a little awry for want of attention."

"Once again, seriously; may I enjoy the great good that has been vouchsafed to me, without fearing that any one else is suffering the bitter pain I myself felt a while ago?"

"That you may, my good little girl: there is not another being in the world has the same pure love for me as yourself--for I lay that pleasant unction to my soul, Jane, a belief in your affection."

I placed my hand tenderly on her shoulder and she kissed it.

I said, "Ask something more, it is my delight to be entreated, and to yield."

"Communicate your intentions to Mrs. Fairfax, sir: she saw me with you last night in the hall, and she was shocked. Give her some explanation before I see her again. It pains me to be misjudged by so good a woman."

"Go to your room, and put on your bonnet. I mean you to accompany me to Millcote this morning; and while you prepare for the drive, I will enlighten the old lady's understanding. Did she think, Janet, you had given the world for love, and considered it well lost?"

"I believe she thought I had forgotten my station, and yours, sir."

"Station! station!--your station is in my heart, and on the necks of those who would insult you, now or hereafter.--Go."

Jane left me and I went to ask John to prepare the carriage. While I was speaking to John Adele came down the stairs as she was heading towards the kitchen. As soon as she heard me say Millcote, she begged, "Oh please let me go with you and Miss Eyre Uncle Edward. I so long for a scarf for my summer things."

"No Adele, this trip is for Jane and I alone. We are to be married Adele."

"Married than you must let me go and pick out wedding clothes for Miss Eyre! Oh please let me go, let me go!"

"No Adele, off with you to your nursery. It shall only be Miss Eyre and I today." I left her in the hallway and made way outside. After a few minutes I heard Adele pleading, "Let me go,--let me go to Millcote too! Mr. Rochester won't: though there is so much room in the new carriage. Beg him to let me go mademoiselle."

"That I will, Adele;" Jane came towards me and Pilot and asked in her elfish tone,"Adele may accompany us, may she not, sir?"

"I told her no. I'll have no brats!--I'll have only you."

"Do let her go, Mr. Rochester, if you please: it would be better."

"Not it: she will be a restraint." I said with stern countenance. Jane was silent and backed away from me ever so slightly as if she was startled."What is the matter? All the sunshine is gone. Do you really wish the bairn to go? Will it annoy you if she is left behind?"

"I would far rather she went, sir."

"Then off for your bonnet, and back like a flash of lightning!" Adele soon left us. "After all, a single morning's interruption will not matter much," I mumbled, "when I mean shortly to claim you--your thoughts, conversation, and company--for life."

Adele came back shortly and I lifted her into the carriage placing her in one of the corners so that I could be seated next to my bride. The youngling protested, exclaiming she could not see the window.

Jane said, "Let her come to me, she will, perhaps, trouble you, sir: there is plenty of room on this side."

For another afternoon I would have to be separated from Jane by Adele of all people. I placed the child between us and said, "I'll send her to school yet."

"Am I go to school sans mademoiselle?"

"Yes, absolutely sans mademoiselle; for I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me."

"She will have nothing to eat: you will starve her," observed Adele.

"I shall gather manna for her morning and night: the plains and hillsides in the moon are bleached with manna, Adele."

"She will want to warm herself: what will she do for a fire?"

"Fire rises out of the lunar mountains: when she is cold, I'll carry her up to a peak, and lay her down on the edge of a crater."

"Oh, qu' elle y sera mal--peu comfortable! And her clothes, they will wear out: how can she get new ones?"

The child's imagination was vivid, most likely due to the time Jane spent on developing her mind in lessons. "Hem," I said, "What would you do, Adele? Cudgel your brains for an expedient. How would a white or a pink cloud answer for a gown, do you think? And one could cut a pretty enough scarf out of a rainbow."

"She is far better as she is," concluded Adele, after musing some time: "besides, she would get tired of living with only you in the moon. If I were mademoiselle, I would never consent to go with you."

"She has consented: she has pledged her word."

"But you can't get her there; there is no road to the moon: it is all air; and neither you nor she can fly."

"Adele, look at that field." I pointed to the lavish field just on the outside of Thornfield's grounds. I continued, "In that field, Adele, I was walking late one evening about a fortnight since--the evening of the day you helped me to make hay in the orchard meadows; and, as I was tired with raking swaths, I sat down to rest me on a stile; and there I took out a little book and a pencil, and began to write about a misfortune that befell me long ago, and a wish I had for happy days to come: I was writing away very fast, though daylight was fading from the leaf, when something came up the path and stopped two yards off me. I looked at it. It was a little thing with a veil of gossamer on its head. I beckoned it to come near me; it stood soon at my knee. I never spoke to it, and it never spoke to me, in words; but I read its eyes, and it read mine; and our speechless colloquy was to this effect -

"It was a fairy, and come from Elf-land, it said; and its errand was to make me happy: I must go with it out of the common world to a lonely place--such as the moon, for instance--and it nodded its head towards her horn, rising over Hay-hill: it told me of the alabaster cave and silver vale where we might live. I said I should like to go; but reminded it, as you did me, that I had no wings to fly.

"'Oh,' returned the fairy, 'that does not signify! Here is a talisman will remove all difficulties;' and she held out a pretty gold ring. 'Put it,' she said, 'on the fourth finger of my left hand, and I am yours, and you are mine; and we shall leave earth, and make our own heaven yonder.' She nodded again at the moon. The ring, Adele, is in my breeches-pocket, under the disguise of a sovereign: but I mean soon to change it to a ring again."

Adele asked, "But what has mademoiselle to do with it? I don't care for the fairy: you said it was mademoiselle you would take to the moon?"

"Mademoiselle is a fairy," he said, whispering mysteriously. I looked at Jane who immediately interrupted and corrected my story. She told Adele to ignore my silly conclusions as I was teasing the child. Adele pleaded with me to tell her another story whereupon I told her the tale of the Beauty and the Beast, a tale I knew her mother use to tell her as an infant as a book of stories was included in her basket when Celine left the child.

We soon arrived in Millcote and went to the dress shop. We found an assistant and I informed her we needed jewelle-coloured gowns for our honeymoon trip to the continent. The woman came back with rich silks in pinks, blues and emeralds but Jane seemed dissatisfied with these colours to find others. She came back with a fawn colour, a brunt orange and horrific grey silk. These did nothing for me so I sent them back again. As Jane's nerves seemed overwhelmed, she pleaded with me to only obtain two addresses. I agreed to but insisted on picking out colours that would bring out her fair colouring. After a few moments I selected a rich silk of the most brilliant amethyst dye, and a superb pink satin. With disdain, she told me I might as well dress her in gold bronzing and selected a a raven black satin and the horrific grey presented earlier. I said,"It might pass for the present," he said; "but he would yet see me glittering like a parterre."

As Jane was overwhelmed with all of this, I felt it important to let her take things and went about my tasks of commissioning a trunk for her and selecting attire for the wedding night for I knew my Jane would not have the courage to consider such things. I tactfully asked an assistant for a bridal chemise of fine ivory silk and lace. She brought back a lovely garment and I soon found myself thinking of how Jane would look in such a delicate piece of clothing, and then how she would look without it. Before my thoughts of desire overtook me, I found my Jane who was looking at me. I smiled at her and looked and picked up some lovely gems which lay near me. She came towards me and said,"You need not look in that way, if you do, I'll wear nothing but my old Lowood frocks to the end of the chapter. I'll be married in this lilac gingham: you may make a dressing-gown for yourself out of the pearl-grey silk, and an infinite series of waistcoats out of the black satin."

The thoughts of disrobing her from those governess clothes excited me greatly. I said, "Oh, it is rich to see and hear her? Is she original? Is she piquant? I would not exchange this one little English girl for the Grand Turk's whole seraglio, gazelle-eyes, houri forms, and all!"

"I'll not stand you an inch in the stead of a seraglio, so don't consider me an equivalent for one. If you have a fancy for anything in that line, away with you, sir, to the bazaars of Stamboul without delay, and lay out in extensive slave-purchases some of that spare cash you seem at a loss to spend satisfactorily here."

"And what will you do, Janet, while I am bargaining for so many tons of flesh and such an assortment of black eyes?"

"I'll be preparing myself to go out as a missionary to preach liberty to them that are enslaved--your harem inmates amongst the rest. I'll get admitted there, and I'll stir up mutiny; and you, three-tailed bashaw as you are, sir, shall in a trice find yourself fettered amongst our hands: nor will I, for one, consent to cut your bonds till you have signed a charter, the most liberal that despot ever yet conferred."

"I would consent to be at your mercy, Jane," for I knew as of our wedding night I would be completely. We purchased the last of the garments and returned to the carriage.

As we left the store, she said, "I would have no mercy, Mr. Rochester, if you supplicated for it with an eye like that. While you looked so, I should be certain that whatever charter you might grant under coercion, your first act, when released, would be to violate its conditions."

"Why, Jane, what would you have? I fear you will compel me to go through a private marriage ceremony, besides that performed at the altar. You will stipulate, I see, for peculiar terms--what will they be?"

"I only want an easy mind, sir; not crushed by crowded obligations. Do you remember what you said of Celine Varens?--of the diamonds, the cashmeres you gave her? I will not be your English Celine Varens. I shall continue to act as Adele's governess; by that I shall earn my board and lodging, and thirty pounds a year besides. I'll furnish my own wardrobe out of that money, and you shall give me nothing but--"

"Well, but what?"

"Your regard; and if I give you mine in return, that debt will be quit."

"Well, for cool native impudence and pure innate pride, you haven't your equal. Will it please you to dine with me to-day?" I asked hoping we could start some routine of domesticity.

"No, thank you, sir."

"And what for, 'no, thank you?' if one may inquire."

"I never have dined with you, sir: and I see no reason why I should now: till--"

"Till what? You delight in half-phrases."

"Till I can't help it." 'Can't help it!' I thought to myself. Who does she think I am?

I said, "Do you suppose I eat like an ogre or a ghoul, that you dread being the companion of my repast?"

"I have formed no supposition on the subject, sir; but I want to go on as usual for another month."

"You will give up your governessing slavery at once."

"Indeed, begging your pardon, sir, I shall not. I shall just go on with it as usual. I shall keep out of your way all day, as I have been accustomed to do: you may send for me in the evening, when you feel disposed to see me, and I'll come then; but at no other time."

I rummaged through my pockets trying to find a cigar. I said, "I want a smoke, Jane, or a pinch of snuff, to comfort me under all this, 'pour me donner une contenance,' as Adele would say; and unfortunately I have neither my cigar-case, nor my snuff-box. But listen--whisper. It is your time now, little tyrant, but it will be mine presently; and when once I have fairly seized you, to have and to hold, I'll just--figuratively speaking--attach you to a chain like this" (touching his watch-guard). "Yes, bonny wee thing, I'll wear you in my bosom, lest my jewel I should tyne."

We arrived at Thornfield, I helped Adele and Jane out of the carriage and we all went in separate directions. I was still unsure of why Jane did not wish to dine with me but I knew it was useless to persuade her and decided to not argue otherwise. After my dinner alone, which I confess, I ate as quickly as possible, I asked her to meet me in the library as we often did as this would not be against her routine. She came in and took her seat next to the fire. I stood, attempted to kiss her but she turned her head so my lips met her forehead.

I sighed and returned to my seat, "Now Jane, what shall we do this evening.

"Well Mr Rochester, I recall you singing at one of your lavish parties." I felt the colour rush to my cheeks for singing seemed like the only to quiet the insolent talk at those parties and not something I thought Jane would find enjoyment in.

"Did you like my voice Jane?"

"Very much," she replied, "And I would like to hear it again."

"Then, Jane, you must play the accompaniment."

"Very well, sir, I will try."

We walked to the piano and she sat as I found the song I wished to share with her.

I sang, "The truest love that ever heart Felt at its kindled core, Did through each vein, in quickened start, The tide of being pour.

"Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain; The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein.

"I dreamed it would be nameless bliss, As I loved, loved to be; And to this object did I press As blind as eagerly.

"But wide as pathless was the space That lay our lives between, And dangerous as the foamy race Of ocean-surges green.

"And haunted as a robber-path Through wilderness or wood; For Might and Right, and Woe and Wrath, Between our spirits stood.

"I dangers dared; I hindrance scorned; I omens did defy: Whatever menaced, harassed, warned, I passed impetuous by.

"On sped my rainbow, fast as light; I flew as in a dream; For glorious rose upon my sight That child of Shower and Gleam.

"Still bright on clouds of suffering dim Shines that soft, solemn joy; Nor care I now, how dense and grim Disasters gather nigh.

"I care not in this moment sweet, Though all I have rushed o'er Should come on pinion, strong and fleet, Proclaiming vengeance sore:

"Though haughty Hate should strike me down, Right, bar approach to me, And grinding Might, with furious frown, Swear endless enmity.

"My love has placed her little hand With noble faith in mine, And vowed that wedlock's sacred band Our nature shall entwine.

"My love has sworn, with sealing kiss, With me to live--to die; I have at last my nameless bliss. As I love--loved am I!"

I looked at her and felt such pleasure in sharing music with her. I longed for to realize this and realize the other passions of my heart. I gently kissed her again but she pulled away as our closeness intensified.

She asked, "And whom are you going to marry now Mr Rochester?"

"This is a strange question to be put by my darling Jane."

"Indeed! I considered it a very natural and necessary one: In the song, he had talked of his future wife dying with him What did he mean by such a pagan idea? I had no intention of dying with him-he might depend on that."

"Oh, all he longed, all he prayed for, was that you might live with he! Death was not for such as you."

"Indeed it was: I had as good a right to die when my time came as in the song, he had: but I should bide that time, and not be hurried away in a suttee."

"Would I forgive him for the selfish idea, and prove my pardon by a reconciling kiss?"

"No: I would rather be excused." She began to walk away.

Slightly disgruntled by her lack of affection I said, "Hard little thing, any other woman would have been melted to marrow at hearing such stanzas crooned in her praise."

She replied that she was naturally hard, which I found difficult to believe for she was so soft and yielding when I held her only the night before. She also accused me of being overly flirty and that she would continue to refuse my advances.

Her coldness irked me for I only wanted to shower her with my love she should understand. I said, "Would you be quiet and talk rationally?"

"I would be quiet if you liked, and as to talking rationally, I flattered myself I was doing that now."

She was not talking as a woman in love. I said, "Jane you professed you were my equal only last night and yet you resist any attempt of affection I might bestow on you. Although I want to shower you with my love I know you will continue to put to rest any sentiment. Therefore I will oblige but only for the next moon for soon you shall be my wife and your delights will be mine.

"I wish you good-night, sir," she said ad left the room. I slumped back into my chair and enjoyed the remainder of my brandy as much as I could. This woman had captured my soul completely.

I spent the next few days obliging her by continuing in our master and governess manner. On occasion I gently caressed her hand but she pulled it away time-after-time. If ever I brought up a wedding matter, she immediately answered my query before ending the discussion on the subject. Much to my vexation I continued to abide by her ruling of the house to the point I found myself becoming slightly cold and distant. When she called me on this during one of nightly meeting, I told her it was because I needed some warmth from her. She responded by saying she had shown no less warmth than before and she was sorry I was vexed but felt this was the best situation for both of us.

As the week of our wedding commenced, my worries increased ever so slightly. The act of bigamy that I was about to commit made its impression on me. I prayed in my bed-chamber to let God understand as I had done my duty, I had kept Bertha safe and I had saved a helpless soul from a destitute future. I had turned away from my sins of the flesh and submitted to purity through Jane. Surely this would be enough to allow me to marry her. Business called me to London two days prior to our wedding. Even the distractions of town could not deter my thoughts. I Edward Rochester was about to become a bigamist. However I rationalized to myself the woman I was to marry was good and pure, made me whole again through her love and the other marriage had ceased to exist a long time ago. Therefore I was not such a man and could delight in my future.


	17. Chapter 17

As the day of my wedding to Jane drew even closer, I felt my anxieties begin to intensify. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I was taking an innocent girl into a false marriage. But I was saving her from a life of hardship, of pain and of misery. She would be my true-wife, the companion of my heart and my purest joy. As I rode back from town with these heavy thoughts, I distracted myself by thinking of our honeymoon, our trip to the continent where I would lavish her with my love and affection. We would see the sights and I would experience these pleasures through her, only thinking of her and not of my own time on the continent where I tried to forget my hell in England. Jane's open love made me new again and I felt reborn in her presence.

As I approached the grounds of Thronfield, I was struck by how the winds intensified. The weather was more pleasant down south and I expected some change as I came up north but there was something in the air that chilled me to the bone. The skies opened up and the winds blew me nearly off my horse. I rode Mersrour faster for I knew he felt something in the weather and as we approached the house, I the small delicate figure of my beloved. It was late and I expected her to be in bed. As I rode closer to her I noticed her features which seemed to be perplexed with worry. Still I did not wish to alarm her so I rode up to her.

"There!" I exclaimed as I dismounted my horse. "You can't do without me, that is evident. Step on my boot-toe; give me both hands: mount!"

I took her in my arms. Oh the sweet joy of holding her close to me! But as I kissed her she pulled away. I said, "But is there anything the matter, Janet, that you come to meet me at such an hour? Is there anything wrong?"

"No, but I thought you would never come. I could not bear to wait in the house for you, especially with this rain and wind."

"Rain and wind, indeed! Yes, you are dripping like a mermaid; pull my cloak round you: but I think you are feverish, Jane: both your cheek and hand are burning hot. I ask again, is there anything the matter?" I lifted her on my horse and we rode back to Thornfield.

She said after a few moments, "Nothing now; I am neither afraid nor unhappy."

"Then you have been both?"

"Rather: but I'll tell you all about it by-and-bye, sir; and I daresay you will only laugh at me for my pains."

"I'll laugh at you heartily when to-morrow is past; till then I dare not: my prize is not certain. This is you, who have been as slippery as an eel this last month, and as thorny as a briar-rose? I could not lay a finger anywhere but I was pricked; and now I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms. You wandered out of the fold to seek your shepherd, did you, Jane?"

"I wanted you: but don't boast. Here we are at Thornfield: now let me get down."

John and I helped her off the horse. I took her hand and led her to the hall.

"Go and take off your wet garments Jane for I do not want my bride to have red-nose." She left me and I changed out my own things. I found the house as I had left it but I was still perplexed as to why Jane was so worrisome. When I left her she seemed as I content as I.

I washed for supper and made my way to dinning hall where I found a hearty stew waiting for me as well as a plate for Jane. I dug into my own and as I drank some wine, Jane entered.

I said, "Take a seat and bear me company, Jane: please God, it is the last meal but one you will eat at Thornfield Hall for a long time."

She sat down next to me but did not eat a morsel. After finishing my own, I asked, "Is it because you have the prospect of a journey before you, Jane? Is it the thoughts of going to London that takes away your appetite?"

"I cannot see my prospects clearly to-night, sir; and I hardly know what thoughts I have in my head. Everything in life seems unreal."

"Except me: I am substantial enough--touch me."

"You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all: you are a mere dream."

I laughed as she said this. "Is that a dream?" said he. I placed my arm near her taking her little hand in my own.

"Yes; though I touch it, it is a dream. Sir, have you finished supper?"

"Yes, Jane."

Jane rang the bell and ordered the tray away. She came and sat on my knee and I held her close to me.

"It is near midnight," she said.

"Yes: but remember, Jane, you promised to wake with me the night before my wedding."

"I did; and I will keep my promise, for an hour or two at least: I have no wish to go to bed."

"Are all your arrangements complete?"

"All, sir."

"And on my part likewise. I have settled everything; and we shall leave Thornfield to-morrow, within half-an-hour after our return from church."

"Very well, sir."

"With what an extraordinary smile you uttered that word--'very well,' Jane! What a bright spot of colour you have on each cheek! and how strangely your eyes glitter! Are you well?"

"I believe I am."

"Believe! What is the matter? Tell me what you feel."

"I could not, sir: no words could tell you what I feel. I wish this present hour would never end: who knows with what fate the next may come charged?" As she said these words I hugged her even tighter. Perhaps I was rushing her but I could not wait to make her wife for I deserved the happiness she brought me.

I said, "This is hypochondria, Jane. You have been over-excited, or over- fatigued."

"Do you, sir, feel calm and happy?"

"Calm?--no: but happy--to the heart's core."

I sighed as she looked at me, her eyes ever-searching my face.

I said, "Give me your confidence, Jane, relieve your mind of any weight that oppresses it, by imparting it to me. What do you fear?- -that I shall not prove a good husband?"

"It is the idea farthest from my thoughts."

"Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter?--of the new life into which you are passing?"

"No."

"You puzzle me, Jane: your look and tone of sorrowful audacity perplex and pain me. I want an explanation." She could tell me anything and I would not fear her unless of course she told me she did not love me.

"Then, sir, listen. You were from home last night?"

"I was: I know that; and you hinted a while ago at something which had happened in my absence:- nothing, probably, of consequence; but, in short, it has disturbed you. Let me hear it. Mrs. Fairfax has said something, perhaps? or you have overheard the servants talk?-- your sensitive self-respect has been wounded?"

"No, sir."

She hesitated but started again. "All day yesterday I was very busy, and very happy in my ceaseless bustle; for I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any haunting fears about the new sphere, et cetera: I think it a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, because I love you. No, sir, don't caress me now--let me talk undisturbed. Yesterday I trusted well in Providence, and believed that events were working together for your good and mine: it was a fine day, if you recollect--the calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensions respecting your safety or comfort on your journey. I walked a little while on the pavement after tea, thinking of you; and I beheld you in imagination so near me, I scarcely missed your actual presence. I thought of the life that lay before me--YOUR life, sir--an existence more expansive and stirring than my own: as much more so as the depths of the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its own strait channel. I wondered why moralists call this world a dreary wilderness: for me it blossomed like a rose. Just at sunset, the air turned cold and the sky cloudy: I went in, Sophie called me upstairs to look at my wedding-dress, which they had just brought; and under it in the box I found your present--the veil which, in your princely extravagance, you sent for from London: resolved, I suppose, since I would not have jewels, to cheat me into accepting something as costly. I smiled as I unfolded it, and devised how I would tease you about your aristocratic tastes, and your efforts to masque your plebeian bride in the attributes of a peeress. I though how I would carry down to you the square of unembroidered blond I had myself prepared as a covering for my low-born head, and ask if that was not good enough for a woman who could bring her husband neither fortune, beauty, nor connections. I saw plainly how you would look; and heard your impetuous republican answers, and your haughty disavowal of any necessity on your part to augment your wealth, or elevate your standing, by marrying either a purse or a coronet."

I knew I shouldn't have bought it but I wanted her to have something that sparkled and make her feel like a queen. She had so little-respect for the beauty that she was and I longed for her to see herself as I saw her. Still she insisted on these plain dresses.

I said, "How well you read me, you witch! But what did you find in the veil besides its embroidery? Did you find poison, or a dagger, that you look so mournful now?"

"No, no, sir; besides the delicacy and richness of the fabric, I found nothing save Fairfax Rochester's pride; and that did not scare me, because I am used to the sight of the demon. But, sir, as it grew dark, the wind rose: it blew yesterday evening, not as it blows now--wild and high--but 'with a sullen, moaning sound' far more eerie. I wished you were at home. I came into this room, and the sight of the empty chair and fireless hearth chilled me. For some time after I went to bed, I could not sleep--a sense of anxious excitement distressed me. The gale still rising, seemed to my ear to muffle a mournful under-sound; whether in the house or abroad I could not at first tell, but it recurred, doubtful yet doleful at every lull; at last I made out it must be some dog howling at a distance. I was glad when it ceased. On sleeping, I continued in dreams the idea of a dark and gusty night. I continued also the wish to be with you, and experienced a strange, regretful consciousness of some barrier dividing us. During all my first sleep, I was following the windings of an unknown road; total obscurity environed me; rain pelted me; I was burdened with the charge of a little child: a very small creature, too young and feeble to walk, and which shivered in my cold arms, and wailed piteously in my ear. I thought, sir, that you were on the road a long way before me; and I strained every nerve to overtake you, and made effort on effort to utter your name and entreat you to stop-- but my movements were fettered, and my voice still died away inarticulate; while you, I felt, withdrew farther and farther every moment."

I wish I could have entered her nightmare and saved her from it. I said," And these dreams weigh on your spirits now, Jane, when I am close to you? Little nervous subject! Forget visionary woe, and think only of real happiness! You say you love me, Janet: yes--I will not forget that; and you cannot deny it. THOSE words did not die inarticulate on your lips. I heard them clear and soft: a thought too solemn perhaps, but sweet as music--'I think it is a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, Edward, because I love you.' Do you love me, Jane?--repeat it."

"I do, sir--I do, with my whole heart."

We held each other for a bit before I continued, "Well, it is strange; but that sentence has penetrated by breast painfully. Why? I think because you said it with such an earnest, religious energy, and because your upward gaze at me now is the very sublime of faith, truth, and devotion: it is too much as if some spirit were near me. Look wicked, Jane: as you know well how to look: coin one of your wild, shy, provoking smiles; tell me you hate me--tease me, vex me; do anything but move me: I would rather be incensed than saddened."

"I will tease you and vex you to your heart's content, when I have finished my tale: but hear me to the end."

"I thought, Jane, you had told me all. I thought I had found the source of your melancholy in a dream."

She shook her head.

I said, "What! is there more? But I will not believe it to be anything important. I warn you of incredulity beforehand. Go on." I prayed the worst part of her night's tale was over but I knew in my heart it wasn't.

"I dreamt another dream, sir: that Thornfield Hall was a dreary ruin, the retreat of bats and owls. I thought that of all the stately front nothing remained but a shell-like wall, very high and very fragile-looking. I wandered, on a moonlight night, through the grass-grown enclosure within: here I stumbled over a marble hearth, and there over a fallen fragment of cornice. Wrapped up in a shawl, I still carried the unknown little child: I might not lay it down anywhere, however tired were my arms--however much its weight impeded my progress, I must retain it. I heard the gallop of a horse at a distance on the road; I was sure it was you; and you were departing for many years and for a distant country. I climbed the thin wall with frantic perilous haste, eager to catch one glimpse of you from the top: the stones rolled from under my feet, the ivy branches I grasped gave way, the child clung round my neck in terror, and almost strangled me; at last I gained the summit. I saw you like a speck on a white track, lessening every moment. The blast blew so strong I could not stand. I sat down on the narrow ledge; I hushed the scared infant in my lap: you turned an angle of the road: I bent forward to take a last look; the wall crumbled; I was shaken; the child rolled from my knee, I lost my balance, fell, and woke."

"Now, Jane, that is all."

"All the preface, sir; the tale is yet to come. On waking, a gleam dazzled my eyes; I thought--Oh, it is daylight! But I was mistaken; it was only candlelight. Sophie, I supposed, had come in. There was a light in the dressing-table, and the door of the closet, where, before going to bed, I had hung my wedding-dress and veil, stood open; I heard a rustling there. I asked, 'Sophie, what are you doing?' No one answered; but a form emerged from the closet; it took the light, held it aloft, and surveyed the garments pendent from the portmanteau. 'Sophie! Sophie!' I again cried: and still it was silent. I had risen up in bed, I bent forward: first surprise, then bewilderment, came over me; and then my blood crept cold through my veins. Mr. Rochester, this was not Sophie, it was not Leah, it was not Mrs. Fairfax: it was not--no, I was sure of it, and am still--it was not even that strange woman, Grace Poole."

"It must have been one of them," I interrupted knowing full well who it was.

"No, sir, I solemnly assure you to the contrary. The shape standing before me had never crossed my eyes within the precincts of Thornfield Hall before; the height, the contour were new to me."

"Describe it, Jane."

"It seemed, sir, a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark hair hanging long down her back. I know not what dress she had on: it was white and straight; but whether gown, sheet, or shroud, I cannot tell."

"Did you see her face?" I thought that face should only plague me with nightmares.

Jane said, "Not at first. But presently she took my veil from its place; she held it up, gazed at it long, and then she threw it over her own head, and turned to the mirror. At that moment I saw the reflection of the visage and features quite distinctly in the dark oblong glass."

"And how were they?"

"Fearful and ghastly to me--oh, sir, I never saw a face like it! It was a discoloured face--it was a savage face. I wish I could forget the roll of the red eyes and the fearful blackened inflation of the lineaments!"

"Ghosts are usually pale, Jane."

"This, sir, was purple: the lips were swelled and dark; the brow furrowed: the black eyebrows widely raised over the bloodshot eyes. Shall I tell you of what it reminded me?"

"You may."

"Of the foul German spectre--the Vampyre."

"Ah!--what did it do?"

"Sir, it removed my veil from its gaunt head, rent it in two parts, and flinging both on the floor, trampled on them."

"Afterwards?"

"It drew aside the window-curtain and looked out; perhaps it saw dawn approaching, for, taking the candle, it retreated to the door. Just at my bedside, the figure stopped: the fiery eyes glared upon me--she thrust up her candle close to my face, and extinguished it under my eyes. I was aware her lurid visage flamed over mine, and I lost consciousness: for the second time in my life--only the second time--I became insensible from terror."

"Who was with you when you revived?"

"No one, sir, but the broad day. I rose, bathed my head and face in water, drank a long draught; felt that though enfeebled I was not ill, and determined that to none but you would I impart this vision. Now, sir, tell me who and what that woman was?"

Knowing it would be virtually impossible for me to convince her it was her imagination I tried in vain, "The creature of an over-stimulated brain; that is certain. I must be careful of you, my treasure: nerves like yours were not made for rough handling."

"Sir, depend on it, my nerves were not in fault; the thing was real: the transaction actually took place."

"And your previous dreams, were they real too? Is Thornfield Hall a ruin? Am I severed from you by insuperable obstacles? Am I leaving you without a tear--without a kiss--without a word?"

"Not yet."

"Am I about to do it? Why, the day is already commenced which is to bind us indissolubly; and when we are once united, there shall be no recurrence of these mental terrors: I guarantee that."

"Mental terrors, sir! I wish I could believe them to be only such: I wish it more now than ever; since even you cannot explain to me the mystery of that awful visitant."

"And since I cannot do it, Jane, it must have been unreal."

"But, sir, when I said so to myself on rising this morning, and when I looked round the room to gather courage and comfort from the cheerful aspect of each familiar object in full daylight, there--on the carpet--I saw what gave the distinct lie to my hypothesis,--the veil, torn from top to bottom in two halves!"

Thank God! That if anything malignant did come near you last night, it was only the veil that was harmed. Oh, to think what might have happened!" How could I have been stupid to leave her alone with that thing upstairs I thought to myself. My heart pounded but I calmed myself before speaking to hear again.

I said, "Now, Janet, I'll explain to you all about it. It was half dream, half reality. A woman did, I doubt not, enter your room: and that woman was--must have been--Grace Poole. You call her a strange being yourself: from all you know, you have reason so to call her-- what did she do to me? what to Mason? In a state between sleeping and waking, you noticed her entrance and her actions; but feverish, almost delirious as you were, you ascribed to her a goblin appearance different from her own: the long dishevelled hair, the swelled black face, the exaggerated stature, were figments of imagination; results of nightmare: the spiteful tearing of the veil was real: and it is like her. I see you would ask why I keep such a woman in my house: when we have been married a year and a day, I will tell you; but not now. Are you satisfied, Jane? Do you accept my solution of the mystery?

"Does not Sophie sleep with Adele in the nursery?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And there is room enough in Adele's little bed for you. You must share it with her to-night, Jane: it is no wonder that the incident you have related should make you nervous, and I would rather you did not sleep alone: promise me to go to the nursery."

"I shall be very glad to do so, sir."

"And fasten the door securely on the inside. Wake Sophie when you go upstairs, under pretence of requesting her to rouse you in good time to-morrow; for you must be dressed and have finished breakfast before eight. And now, no more sombre thoughts: chase dull care away, Janet. Don't you hear to what soft whispers the wind has fallen? and there is no more beating of rain against the window- panes: look here," I said as I lifted up the curtains, "it is a lovely night!

"Well, how is my Janet now?"

"The night is serene, sir; and so am I." She looked peaceful again.

I said, "And you will not dream of separation and sorrow to-night; but of happy love and blissful union."

I walked her to her room and kissed her and said goodnight. It was a hasty kiss but my mind was plagued with other things.

I dashed up to the tower and pounded on the door.

"Grace! Grace!" I said as I unlocked the door. I found Mrs Poole sitting in her chair. I had clearly disturbed her slumber. To her left I found that wretch staring at me with her cold her yes. She smiled as I entered.

"Grace, what happened here last night?"

"I'm sorry sir but I don't know what you are talking about. Everything here was fine. The lady slept all night."

"Do not lie to me Grace for I know Bertha visited Jane last night. How did she get out?" I felt my anger begin to rise.

"I'm sorry sir but I know nothing of this." As she said these words I noticed a gin bottle next to her. It came to me that Grace had clearly been over indulgent with her night-cap and Bertha had somehow escaped.

I took the gin bottle. "Now Grace I will not patronize you but I am going to remove this for a time. I appreciate your labours are long and strenuous, but it seems Bertha has escaped again and we cannot let this happen. She may be mad but she is cunning I feel you do not give her intelligence enough credit. That is why I do not want you drinking for a fortnight. We both know Bertha has been around this house too many times as of late and this cannot happen so I want you to sober up." She nodded. I looked at Bertha who still had that smile on her face. She knew I knew what had happened.

"And you," I said as I turned to her. "If you lay a finger on that girl, so help me God, I will make sure you never forget what you have done."

"Good night Grace," I said as I left the room.

My own chamber provided me little comfort for my mind was full of fears for Jane, hatred toward myself for what I was about to, and venom towards the monster I had imprisoned. I poured myself a brandy and sat on my bed.

"God," I said. "Forgive for my trespasses but know my heart is only pure with her. You know I have had a wicked life and have been punished rightly for my sins but through Jane I have aimed to redeem myself. Do not begrudge me this happiness. She is my one joy. Amen."

It wasn't a prayer as such but my heart felt content. I closed my eyes and laid down on my bed. I unbuttoned my shirt and removed my breaches. I began to think of Jane and our wedded bliss. I began to think of the happiness we would have as man and wife, and knew for the first time my life was finally complete because of her.


End file.
